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o 



POLLY ANN A 


BY THE AUTHOR 

OF 

POLLY ANNA: THE GLAD BOOK 

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POLLY ANN A : THE GLAD BOOK - $1.75 

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POLLY ANN A GROWS UP: THE SECOND 

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GLAD BOOK - - - $1.75 

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THE POLLYANNA GLAD BOOK CALENDAR 


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CROSS CURRENTS $1.50 

THE TURN OF THE TIDE - - - $1.50 

* 


THE PAGE COMPANY 
53 Beacon Street, Boston, Mass. 


POLL YANNA 


(By 

ELEANOR H. PORTER 

Author of “ Miss Billy,” “ Miss Billy’s Decision,” 
“Cross Currents,” “The Turn of the Tides,” etc. 


Illustrated by 

STOCKTON mULFORD 



‘ BOSTON THE PAGE 

COMPANY PUBLISHERS 



Copyright , 1912, 1913 
By The Christian Herald 

Copyright, 1913 
By The Page Company 

All rights reserved 


Fifty-first Impression, October, 1920 
(500th Thousand) 


the colonial press 

C. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A. 


TO 

HJg (Enuatn 1B*U* 





























































* 




>- 














* 


<*• 
















SHE FOUND HERSELF IN THE GREAT DIM LIBRARY, WITH 
JOHN PENDLETON HIMSELF SITTING NEAR HER.” 

(See page 211) 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Miss Polly ....... i 

II. Old Tom and Nancy 9 

III. The Coming of Pollyanna . . . 15 

IV. The Little Attic Room . . . . 27 

V. The Game 40 

VI. A Question of Duty 49 

VII. Pollyanna and Punishments ... 63 

VIII. Pollyanna Pays a Visit . . . . 72 

IX. Which Tells of the Man ... 86 

X. A Surprise for Mrs. Snow ... 93 

XI. Introducing Jimmy 107 

XII. Before the Ladies’ Aid . . . .122 

XIII. In Pendleton Woods 128 

XIV. Just a Matter of Jelly .... 138 

XV. Dr. Chilton 147 

XVI. A Red Rose and a Lace Shawl . . 162 

XVII. “Just Like a Book” 173 

XVIII. Prisms 183 

XIX. Which Is Somewhat Surprising . . 192 

XX. Which Is More Surprising . . .198 

XXI. A Question Answered . . . .207 

XXII. Sermons and Woodboxes . . . .217 


viii Contents 

CHAPTER PAGE 

XXIII. An Accident 229 

- XXIV. John Pendleton 238 

XXV. A Waiting Game 249 

XXVI. A Door Ajar 258 

XXVII. Two Visits 263 

XXVIII. The Game and Its Players . . .274 

XXIX. Through an Open Window . . . 293 

XXX. Jimmy Takes the Helm . . . .301 

XXXI. A New Uncle 306 

XXXII. Which Is a Letter from Pollyanna 309 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


*■ 


PAGE 

“She found herself in the great dim library, 
with John Pendleton himself sitting near’ 


her” (See page 21 1) .... Frontispiece 

“ ‘ Are you Miss — Pollyanna?’ she faltered” 18 

“Flung herself into her aunt’s scandalized, 

UNYIELDING LAP” 27 

“She held out the mirror in triumph” . . 82 

“‘Oh, I KNOW JUST THE PLACE FOR YOU,’ SHE 

cried” 113 

“POLLYANNA SAT SO STILL SHE HARDLY SEEMED 

TO BREATHE” 136 

“ ‘Oh, my! what pretty hair you’ve got’”. . 165 

“Borne, limp and unconscious, into the little 

ROOM THAT WAS SO DEAR TO HER” . . .232 





POLLYANNA 


CHAPTER I 

MISS POLLY 

Miss Polly Harrington entered her kitchen a 
little hurriedly this June morning. Miss Polly did 
not usually make hurried movements; she specially 
prided herself on her repose of manner. But to-day 
she was hurrying — actually hurrying. 

Nancy, washing dishes at the sink, looked up in 
surprise. Nancy had been working in Miss Polly’s 
kitchen only two months, but already she knew that 
her mistress did not usually hurry. 

“ Nancy!” 

“ Yes, ma’am.” Nancy answered cheerfully, but 
she still continued wiping the pitcher in her hand. 

“ Nancy,” — Miss Polly’s voice was very stern 
now — “ when I’m talking to you, I wish you to 

1 


2' 


Pollyanna 


stop your work and listen to what I have to 
say.” 

Nancy flushed miserably. She set the pitcher 
down at once, with the cloth still about it, thereby 
nearly tipping it over — which did not add to her 
composure. 

“Yes, ma’am; I will, ma’am,” she stammered, 
righting the pitcher, and turning hastily. “ I was 
only keepin’ on with my work ’cause you specially 
told me this mornin’ ter hurry with my dishes, ye 
know.” 

Her mistress frowned. 

“ That will do, Nancy. I did not ask for ex- 
planations. I asked for your attention.” 

“ Yes, ma’am.” Nancy stifled a sigh. She was 
wondering if ever in any way she could please this 
woman. Nancy had never “worked out” before; 
but a sick mother suddenly widowed and left with 
three younger children besides Nancy herself, had 
forced the girl into doing something toward their 
support, and she had been so pleased when she 
found a place in the kitchen of the great house on 
the hill — Nancy had come from “ The Corners,” 
six miles away, and she knew Miss Polly Harring- 
ton only as the mistress of the old Harrington home- 
stead, and one of the wealthiest residents of the 


Miss Polly 


town. That was two months before. She knew 
Miss Polly now as a stern, severe-faced woman who 
frowned if a knife clattered to the floor, or if a 
door banged — but who never thought to smile even 
when knives and doors were still. 

“ When you’ve finished your morning work, 
Nancy,” Miss Polly was saying now, “ you may 
clear the little room at the head of the stairs in the 
attic, and make up the cot bed. Sweep the room 
and clean it, of course, after you clear out the trunks 
and boxes.” 

“ Yes, ma’am. And where shall I put the things, 
please, that I take out ? ” 

“ In the front attic.” Miss Polly hesitated, then 
went on : “I suppose I may as well tell you now, 
Nancy. My niece, Miss Pollyanna Whittier, is 
coming to live with me. She is eleven years old, 
and will sleep in that room.” 

“ A little girl — coming here, Miss Harrington? 
Oh, won’t that be nice! ” cried Nancy, thinking of 
the sunshine her own little sisters made in the home 
at “ The Corners.” 

“Nice? Well, that isn’t exactly the word I 
should use,” rejoined Miss Polly, stiffly. “ How- 
ever, I intend to make the best of it, of course. I 
am a good woman, I hope ; and I know my duty.” 


4 


Pollyanna 


Nancy colored hotly. 

“ Of course, ma’am; it was only that I thought 
a little girl here might — might brighten things up 
— for you,” she faltered. 

“ Thank you,” rejoined the lady, dryly. “ I can’t 
say, however, that I see any immediate need for 
that.” 

“ But, of course, you — you’d want her, your 
sister’s child,” ventured Nancy, vaguely feeling that 
somehow she must prepare a welcome for this lonely 
little stranger. 

Miss Polly lifted her chin haughtily. 

“ Well, really, Nancy, just because I happened 
to have a sister who was silly enough to marry and 
bring unnecessary children into a world that was 
already quite full enough, I can’t see how I should 
particularly want to have the care of them myself. 
However, as I said before, I hope I know my duty. 
See that you clean the corners, Nancy,” she finished 
sharply, as she left the room. 

“ Yes, ma’am,” sighed Nancy, picking up the 
half-dried pitcher — now so cold it must be rinsed 
again. 

In her own room, Miss Polly took out once more 
the letter which she had received two days before 


Miss Polly 


5 


from the far-away Western town, and which had 
been so unpleasant a surprise to her. The letter 
was addressed to Miss Polly Harrington, Beldings- 
ville, Vermont; and it read as follows: 

“ Dear Madam : — I regret to inform you that 
the Rev. John Whittier died two weeks ago, leav- 
ing one child, a girl eleven years old. He left 
practically nothing else save a few books; for, as 
you doubtless know, he was the pastor of this small 
mission church, and had a very meagre salary. 

“ I believe he was your deceased sister’s husband, 
but he gave me to understand the families were not 
on the best of terms. He thought, however, that 
for your sister’s sake you might wish to take the 
child and bring her up among her own people in 
the East. Hence I am writing to you. 

“ The little girl will be all ready to start by the 
time you get this letter; and if you can take her, 
we would appreciate it very much if you would 
write that she might come at once, as there is a 
man and his wife here who are going East very 
soon, and they would take her with them to Boston, 
and put her on the Beldingsville train. Of course 
you would be notified what day and train to expect 
Pollyanna on. 


6 


Pollyanna 


“ Hoping to hear favorably from you soon, I 
remain, 

“ Respectfully yours, 

“ Jeremiah O. White.” 

With a frown Miss Polly folded the letter and 
tucked it into its envelope. She had answered it the 
day before, and she had said she would take the 
<child, of course. She hoped she knew her duty well 
enough for that ! — disagreeable as the task would 
be. r 

As she sat now, with the letter in her hands, her 
thoughts went back to her sister, Jennie, who had 
been this child’s mother, and to the time when Jen- 
nie, as a girl of twenty, had insisted upon marrying 
;he young minister, in spite of her family’s remon- 
strances. There had been a man of wealth who had 
wanted her — and the family had much preferred 
him to the minister; but Jennie had not. The man 
of wealth had more years, as well as more money, 
to his credit, while the minister had only a young 
head full of youth’s ideals and enthusiasm, and a 
heart full of love. Jennie had preferred these — • 
quite naturally, perhaps; so she had married the 
minister, and had gone south with him as a horns 
missionary’s wife. 


Miss Polly 


7' 


The break had come then. Miss Polly remem- 
bered it well, though she had been but a girl of fif- 
teen, the youngest, at the time. The family had 
had little more to do with the missionary’s wife. 
To be sure, Jennie herself had written, for a time, 
and had named her last baby “ Pollyanna ” for 
her two sisters, Polly and Anna — the other 
babies had all died. This had been the last time 
that Jennie had written; and in a few years 
there had come the news of her death, told in 
a short, but heart-broken little note from the 
minister himself, dated at a little town in the 
West. 

Meanwhile, time had not stood still for the occu- 
pants of the great house on the hill. Miss Polly, 
looking out at the far-reaching valley below, 
thought of the changes those twenty-five years had 
brought to her. 

She was forty now, and quite alone in the world. 
Father, mother, sisters — all were dead. For years, 
now, she had been sole mistress of the house and 
of the thousands left her by her father. There were 
people who had openly pitied her lonely life, and 
who had urged her to have some friend or compan- 
ion to live with her; but she had not welcomed 
either their sympathy or their advice. She was not 


8 


Pollyanna 


lonely, she said. She liked being by herself. She 
preferred quiet. But now — 

Miss Polly rose with frowning face and closely- 
shut lips. She was glad, of course, that she was 
a good woman, and that she not only knew her 
duty, but had sufficient strength of character to 
perform it. But — Pollyanna! — what a ridiculous 
name! 


CHAPTER II 


OLD TOM AND NANCY 

In the little attic room Nancy swept and scrubbed 
vigorously, paying particular attention to the cor- 
ners. There were times, indeed, when the vigor 
she put into her work was more of a relief to her 
feelings than it was an ardor to efface dirt — « 
Nancy, in spite of her frightened submission to her 
mistress, was no saint. 

“ I — just — wish — I could — dig — out — - 
the corners — of — her — soul ! ” she muttered 
jerkily, punctuating her words with murderous jabs 
of her pointed cleaning-stick. “ There’s plenty of 
’em needs cleanin’ all right, all right! The idea of 
stickin’ that blessed child ’way off up here in this 
hot little room — with no fire in the winter, too ; 
and all this big house ter pick and choose from! 
Unnecessary children, indeed ! Humph ! ” snapped 
Nancy, wringing her rag so hard her fingers ached 
from the strain ; “ I guess it ain’t children what 
is most unnecessary just now, just now!” 


10 


Pollyanna 


For some time she worked in silence; then, her 
task finished, she looked about the bare little room 
in plain disgust. 

“ Well, it’s done — my part, anyhow,” she sighed. 
“ There ain’t no dirt here — and there’s mighty 
little else. Poor little soul ! — a pretty place this 
is ter put a homesick, lonesome child into ! ” she 
finished, going out and closing the door with a bang. 
“Oh!” she ejaculated, biting her lip. Then, dog- 
gedly: “Well, I don’t care. I hope she did hear 
the bang — I do, I do ! ” 

In the garden that afternoon, Nancy found a few 
minutes in which to interview Old Tom, who had 
pulled the weeds and shovelled the paths about the 
place for uncounted years. 

“ Mr. Tom,” began Nancy, throwing a quick 
glance over her shoulder to make sure she was un- 
observed ; “ did you know a little girl was cornin’ 
here ter live with Miss Polly ? ” 

“A — what? ” demanded the old man, straight- 
ening his bent back with difficulty. 

“ A little girl — to live with Miss Polly.” 

“ Go on with yer jokin’,” scoffed unbelieving 
Tom. “ Why don’t ye tell me the sun is a-goin v 
ter set in the east ter-morrer ? ” 

“ But it’s true. She told me so herself,” main- 


Old Tom and Nancy 


11 


tained Nancy. “ It’s her niece; and she’s eleven 
years old.” 

The man’s jaw fell. 

“ Sho! — I wonder, now,” he muttered; then a 
tender light came into his faded eyes. “ It ain’t — 
but it must be — Miss Jennie’s little gal! There 
wasn’t none of the rest of ’em married. Why, 
Nancy, it must be Miss Jennie’s little gal. Glory 
be ter praise! ter think of my old eyes a-seein’ 
this ! ” 

“ Who was Miss Jennie? ” 

“ She was an angel straight out of Heaven,” 
breathed the man, fervently; “ but the old master 
and missus knew her as their oldest daughter. She 
was twenty when she married and went away from 
here long years ago. Her babies all died, I heard, 
except the last one ; and that must be the one what’s 
a-comin’.” 

“ She’s eleven years old.” 

“ Yes, she might be,” nodded the old man. 

“ And she’s goin’ ter sleep in the attic — more 
shame ter her!” scolded Nancy, with another 
glance over her shoulder toward the house behind 
her. 

Old Tom frowned. The next moment a curious 
smile curved his lips. 


12 


Pollyanna 


“ I’m a-wonderin’ what Miss Polly will do with 
a child in the house,” he said. 

“ Humph ! Well, I’m a-wonderin’ what a child 
will do with Miss Polly in the house ! ” snapped 
Nancy. 

The old man laughed. 

“ Pm afraid you ain’t fond of Miss Polly,” he 
grinned. 

“As if ever anybody could be fond of her!” 
scorned Nancy. 

Old Tom smiled oddly. He stooped and began 
to work again. 

“ I guess maybe you didn’t know about Miss 
Polly’s love affair,” he said slowly. 

“ Love affair — her! No ! — and I guess nobody 
else didn’t, neither.” 

“ Oh, yes they did,” nodded the old man. “ And 
the feller’s livin’ ter-day — right in this town, too.” 

“ Who is he?” 

“ I ain’t a-tellin’ that. It ain’t fit that I should.” 
The old man drew himself erect. In his dim blue 
eyes, as he faced the house, there was the loya] 
servant’s honest pride in the family he has served 
and loved for long years. 

“ But it don’t seem possible — her and a lover,” 
still maintained Nancy. 


Old Tom and Nancy 


13 


Old Tom shook his head. 

“ You didn’t know Miss Polly as I did,” he 
argued. “ She used ter be real handsome — and 
she would be now, if she’d let herself be.” 

“ Handsome! Miss Polly!” 

“ Yes. If she’d just let that tight hair of hern 
all out loose and careless-like, as it used ter be, and 
wear the sort of bunnits with posies in ’em, and the 
kind o’ dresses all lace and white things — you’d 
see she’d be handsome! Miss Polly ain’t old, 
Nancy.” 

" Ain’t she, though? Well, then she’s got an 
awfully good imitation of it — she has, she has!” 
sniffed Nancy. 

“ Yes, I know. It begun then — at the time of 
the trouble with her lover,” nodded Old Tom; “ and 
it seems as if she’d been feedin’ on wormwood an’ 
thistles ever since — she’s that bitter an’ prickly ter 
deal with.” 

“ I should say she was,” declared Nancy, indig- 
nantly. “ There’s no pleasin’ her, nohow, no matter 
how you try! I wouldn’t stay if ’twa’n’t for the 
wages and the folks at home what’s needin’ ’em. 
But some day — some day I shall jest b’ile over; 
and when I do, of course it’ll be good-by Nancy 
for me. It will, it will.” 


14 


Pollyanna 


Old Tom shook his head. 

“ I know. I’ve felt it. It’s nart’ral — but ’tain’t 
best, child; ’tain’t best. Take my word for it, 
’tain’t best.” And again he bent his old head to 
the work before him. 

“ Nancy! ” called a sharp voice. 

“ Y-yes, ma’am,” stammered Nancy; and hur- 
ried toward the house. 


CHAPTER III 


THE COMING OF POLLYANNA 

In due time came the telegram announcing that 
Pollyanna would arrive in Beldingsville the next 
day, the twenty-fifth of June, at four o’clock. Miss 
Polly read the telegram, frowned, then climbed the 
stairs to the attic room. She still frowned as she 
looked about her. 

The room contained a small bed, neatly made, 
two straight-backed chairs, a washstand, a bureau 
— without any mirror — and a small table. There 
were no drapery curtains at the dormer windows, 
no pictures on the wall. All day the sun had been 
pouring down upon the roof, and the little room 
was like an oven for heat. As there were no 
screens, the windows had not been raised. A big 
fly was buzzing angrily at one of them now, up and 
down, up and down, trying to get out. 

Miss Polly killed the fly, swept it through the 
window (raising the sash an inch for the purpose), 
15 


16 


Pollyanna 


straightened a chair, frowned again, and left the 
room. 

“ Nancy,” she said a few minutes later, at the 
kitchen door, “ I found a fly up-stairs in Miss Polly- 
anna’s room. The window must have been raised 
at some time. I have ordered screens, but until 
they come I shall expect you to see that the win- 
dows remain closed. My niece will arrive to-mor- 
row at four o’clock. I desire you to meet her at 
the station. Timothy will take the open buggy and 
drive you over. The telegram says 1 light hair, red- 
checked gingham dress, and straw hat.’ That is 
all I know, hue I think it is sufficient for your pur- 
pose.” 

“ Yes, ma’am ; but — you — ” 

Miss Polly evidently read the pause aright, for 
she frowned and said crisply: 

“No, I shall not go. It is not necessary that I 
should, I think. That is all.” And she turned away 
— Miss Polly’s arrangements for the comfort of 
her niece, Pollyanna, were complete. 

In the kitchen, Nancy sent her flatiron with a 
vicious dig across the dish-towel she was ironing. 

“ ‘ Light hair, red-checked gingham dress, and 
straw hat’ — all she knows, indeed! Well, I’d be 
ashamed ter own it up, that I would, I would — 


The Coming of Pollyanna 


17 


and her my onliest niece what was a-comin’ from 
’way across the continent ! ” 

Promptly at twenty minutes to four the next 
afternoon Timothy and Nancy drove off in the open 
buggy to meet the expected guest. Timothy was 
Old Tom’s son. It was sometimes said in the town 
that if Old Tom was Miss Polly’s right-hand man, 
Timothy was her left. 

Timothy was a good-natured youth, and a good- 
looking one, as well. Short as had been Nancy’s 
stay at the house, the two were already good 
friends. To-day, however, Nancy was too full of 
her mission to be her usual talkative self; and al- 
most in silence she took the drive to the station and 
alighted to wait for the train. 

Over and over in her mind she was saying it — 
“ light hair, red-checked dress, straw hat.” Over 
and over again she was wondering just what sort 
of child this Pollyanna was, anyway. 

“ I hope for her sake she’s quiet and sensible, and 
don’t drop knives nor bang doors,” she sighed to 
Timothy, who had sauntered up to her. 

“ Well, if she ain’t, nobody knows what’ll be- 
come of the rest of us,” grinned Timothy. “ Im- 
agine Miss Polly and a noisy kid! Gorry! there 
goes the whistle now ! ” 


18 


Pollyanna 


“ Oh, Timothy, I — I think it was mean ter send 
me,” chattered the suddenly frightened Nancy, as 
she turned and hurried to a point where she could 
best watch the passengers alight at the little station. 

It was not long before Nancy saw her — the 
slender little girl in the red-checked gingham with 
two fat braids of flaxen hair hanging down her 
back. Beneath the straw hat, an eager, freckled 
little face turned to the right and to the left, plainly 
searching for some one. 

Nancy knew the child at once, but not for some 
time could she control her shaking knees sufficiently 
to go to her. The little girl was standing quite by 
herself when Nancy finally did approach her. 

“ Are you Miss — Pollyanna?” she faltered. 
The next moment she found herself half smothered 
in the clasp of two gingham-clad arms. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad, glad , glad to see you,” cried 
an eager voice in her ear. “Of course I’m Polly- 
anna, and I’m so glad you came to meet me! I 
hoped you would.” 

“You — you did?” stammered Nancy, vaguely 
wondering how Pollyanna could possibly have 
known her — and wanted her. “ You — you did ? ” 
she repeated, trying to straighten her hat. 

“ Oh, yes ; and I’ve been wondering all the way 


The Coming of Pollyanna 


19 


here what you looked like,” cried the little girl, 
dancing on her toes, and sweeping the embarrassed 
Nancy from head to foot, with her eyes. “ And 
now I know, and I’m glad you look just like you 
do look.” 

Nancy was relieved just then to have Timothy 
come up. Pollyanna’s words had been most con- 
fusing. 

“ This is Timothy. Maybe you have a trunk,” 
she stammered. 

“ Yes, I have,” nodded Pollyanna, importantly. 
“ Pve got a brand-new one. The Ladies’ Aid 
bought it for me — and wasn’t it lovely of them, 
when they wanted the carpet so? Of course I don’t 
know how much red carpet a trunk could buy, but 
it ought to buy some, anyhow — much as half an 
aisle, don’t you think? I’ve got a little thing here 
in my bag that Mr. Gray said was a check, and that 
I must give it to you before I could get my trunk. 
Mr. Gray is Mrs. Gray’s husband. They’re cousins 
of Deacon Carr’s wife. I came East with them, 
and they’re lovely! And — there, here ’tis,” she 
finished, producing the check after much fumbling 
in the bag she carried. 

Nancy drew a long breath. Instinctively she felt 
that some one had to draw one — after that speech. 


20 


Pollyanna 


Then she stole a glance at Timothy. Timothy’s 
eyes were studiously turned away. 

The three were off at last, with Pollyanna’s trunk 
in behind, and Pollyanna herself snugly ensconced 
between Nancy and Timothy. During the whole 
process of getting started, the little girl had ke l 
up an uninterrupted stream of comments and qu ra- 
tions, until the somewhat dazed Nancy found 1 • r- 
self quite out of breath trying to keep up with her. 

“ There! Isn’t this lovely? Is it far? I hope 
’tis — I love to ride,” sighed Pollyanna, as the 
wheels began to turn. “ Of course, if ’tisn’t fa" I 
sha’n’t mind, though, ’cause I’ll be glad to get i. re 
all the sooner, you know. What a pretty street 
I knew ’twas going to be pretty; father told me — ” 

She stopped with a little choking breath. Nancy, 
looking at her apprehensively, saw that her small 
chin was quivering, and that her eyes were full of 
tears. In a moment, however, she hurried on, with 
a brave lifting of her head. 

“ Father told me all about it. He remembered. 
And — and I ought to have explained before. Mrs. 
Gray told me to, at once — about this red gingham 
dress, you know, and why I’m not in black. She 
said you’d think ’twas queer. But there weren’t 
any black things in the last missionary barrel, only 


The Coming of Poliyanna 


21 


a lady’s velvet basque which Deacon Carr’s wife 
said wasn’t suitable for me at all; besides, it had 
white spots — worn, you know — on both elbows, 
and some other places. Part of the Ladies’ Aid 
'wanted to buy me a black dress and hat, but the 
, other part thought the money ought to go toward 
the red carpet they’re trying to get — for the 
church, you know. Mrs. White said maybe it was 
just as well, anyway, for she didn’t like children 
in black — that is, I mean, she liked the children, 
of course, but not the black part.” 

Poliyanna paused for breath, and Nancy managed 
to stammer : 

“ Well, Pm sure it — it’ll be all right.” 

“ I’m glad you feel that way. I do, too,” nodded 
Poliyanna, again with that choking little breath. 
“ Of course, ’twould have been a good deal harder 
to be glad in black — ” 

“ Glad! ” gasped Nancy, surprised into an inter- 
ruption. 

“ Yes — that father’s gone to Heaven to be with 
mother and the rest of us, you know. He said I 
must be glad. But it’s been pretty hard to — to 
do it, even in red gingham, because I — I wanted 
him, so ; and I couldn’t help feeling I ought to have 
him, specially as mother and the rest have God and 

■ 


Pollyanna 


n 


all the angels, while I didn’t have anybody but the 
Ladies’ Aid. But now I’m sure it’ll be easier be- 
cause I’ve got you. Aunt Polly. I’m so glad I’ve 
got you ! ” 

Nancy’s aching sympathy for the poor little for- 
lornness beside her turned suddenly into shocked 
terror. 

“ Oh, but — but you’ve made an awful mistake, 
d-dear,” she faltered. “ I’m only Nancy. I ain’t 
your Aunt Polly, at all ! ” 

“You — you aren't?” stammered the little girl, 
in plain dismay. 

“ No. I’m only Nancy. I never thought of your 
takin’ me for her. We — we ain’t a bit alike — 
we ain’t, we ain’t ! ” 

Timothy chuckled softly; but Nancy was too 
disturbed to answer the merry flash from his eyes. 

“ But who are you ? ” questioned Pollyanna. 
“ You don’t look a bit like a Ladies’ Aider! ” 

Timothy laughed outright this time. 

“ I’m Nancy, the hired girl. I do all the work 
except the washin’ an’ hard ironin’. Mis’ Durgin 
does that.” 

“ But there is an Aunt Polly ? ” demanded the 
child, anxiously. 

“ You bet your life there is,” cut in Timothy. 


The Coming of Pollyanna 


23 


Pollyanna relaxed visibly. 

“ Oh, that’s all right, then. ,, There was a mo- 
ment’s silence, then she went on brightly : “ And 
do you know? I’m glad, after all, that she didn’t 
come to meet me; because now I’ve got her still 
coming, and I’ve got you besides.” 

Nancy flushed. Timothy turned to her with a 
quizzical smile. 

“ I call that a pretty slick compliment,” he said. 
“ Why don’t you thank the little lady ? ” 

“I — I was thinkin’ about — Miss Polly,” fal- 
tered Nancy. 

Pollyanna sighed contentedly. 

“ I was, too. I’m so interested in her. You 
know she’s all the aunt I’ve got, and I didn’t know 
I had her for ever so long. Then father told me. 
He said she lived in a lovely great big house ’way 
on top of a hill.” 

“ She does. You can see it now,” said Nancy. 
“ It’s that big white one with the green blinds, ’way 
ahead.” 

“ Oh, how pretty ! — and what a lot of trees and 
grass all around it ! I never saw such a lot of green 
grass, seems so, all at once. Is my Aunt Polly rich, 
Nancy? ” 

“ Yes, Miss.” 


24 


Pollyanna 


“ I’m so glad. It must be perfectly lovely to have 
lots of money. I never knew any one that did have, 
only the Whites — 'they’re some rich. They have 
carpets in every room and ice-cream Sundays. Does 
Aunt Polly have ice-cream Sundays ? ” 

Nancy shook her head. Her lips twitched. She 
threw a merry look into Timothy’s eyes. 

“ No, Miss. Your aunt don’t like ice-cream, I 
guess; leastways I never saw it on her table.” 

Pollyanna’ s face fell. 

“ Oh, doesn’t she? I’m so sorry! I don’t see 
how she can help liking ice-cream. But — anyhow, 
I can be kinder glad about that, ’cause the ice-cream 
you don’t eat can’t make your stomach ache like 
Mrs. White’s did — that is, I ate hers, you know, 
lots of it. Maybe Aunt Polly has got the carpets, 
though.” 

“ Yes, she’s got the carpets.” 

“ In every room ? ” 

“ Well, in almost every room,” answered Nancy, 
frowning suddenly at the thought of that bare little 
attic room where there was no carpet. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad,” exulted Pollyanna. “ I love 
carpets. We didn’t have any, only two little rugs 
that came in a missionary barrel, and one of those 
had ink spots on it. Mrs. White had pictures, too, 


The Coming of Pollyanna 


25 


perfectly beautiful ones of roses and little girls, 
kneeling and a kitty and some lambs and a lion — 
not together, you know — the lambs and the lion. 
Oh, of course the Bible says they will sometime, but 
they haven’t yet — that is, I mean Mrs. White’s 
haven’t. Don’t you just love pictures?” 

“ I — I don’t know,” answered Nancy in a half- 
stifled voice. 

“ I do. We didn’t have any pictures. They don’t 
come in the barrels much, you know. There did 
two come once, though. But one was so good 
father sold it to get money to buy me some shoes 
with; and the other was so bad it fell to pieces just 
as soon as we hung it up. Glass — it broke, you 
know. And I cried. But I’m glad now we didn’t 
have any of those nice things, ’cause I shall like 
Aunt Polly’s all the better — not being used to ’em, 
you see. Just as it is when the pretty hair-ribbons 
come in the barrels after a lot of faded-out brown 
ones. My! but isn’t this a perfectly beautiful 
house? ” she broke off fervently, as they turned into 
the wide driveway. 

It was when Timothy was unloading the trunk 
that Nancy found an opportunity to mutter low in 
his ear: 

“ Don’t you never say nothin’ ter me again about 


26 


Pollyanna 


. leavin’, Timothy Durgin. You couldn’t hire me 
ter leave ! ” 

“ Leave ! I should say not,” grinned the youth. 
“ You couldn’t drag me away. It’ll be more fun 
here now, with that kid ’round, than movin’-picture 
shows, every day!” 

“ Fun ! — fun ! ” repeated Nancy, indignantly. 
“ I guess it’ll be somethin’ more than fun for that 
blessed child — when them two tries ter live ter- 
gether ; and I guess she’ll be a-needin’ some rock ter 
fly to for refuge. Well, I’m a-goin’ ter be that 
rock, Timothy; I am, I am!” she vowed, as she 
turned and led Pollyanna up the broad steps. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE LITTLE ATTIC ROOM 

Miss Folly Harrington did not rise to meet 
her niece. She looked up from her book, it is true, 
as Nancy and the little girl appeared in the sitting- 
room doorway, and she held out a hand with 
“ duty ” written large on every coldly extended 
finger. 

“ How do you do, Pollyanna? I — ” She had 
no chance to say more. Pollyanna had fairly 
flown across the room and flung herself into her 
aunt’s scandalized, unyielding lap. 

“ Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I don’t know how 
to be glad enough that you let me come to live 
with you,” she was sobbing. “You don’t know 
how perfectly lovely it is to have you and Nancy 
and all this after you’ve had just the Ladies’ Aid! ” 

“ Very likely — though I’ve not had the pleasure 
of the Ladies’ Aid’s acquaintance,” rejoined Miss 
Polly, stiffly, trying to unclasp the small, clinging 
fingers, and turning frowning eyes on Nancy in the 
doorway. “ Nancy, that will do. You may go. 

27 


28 


Pollyanna 


Pollyanna, be good enough, please, to stand erect 
in a proper manner. I don’t know yet what you 
look like.” 

Pollyanna drew back at once, laughing a little 
hysterically. 

“ No, I suppose you don’t ; but you see I’m not 
very much to look at, anyway, on account of the 
freckles. Oh, and I ought to explain about the red 
gingham and the black velvet basque with white 
spots on the elbows. I told Nancy how father 
said — ” 

“Yes; well, never mind now what your father 
said,” interrupted Miss Polly, crisply. “ You had 
a trunk, I presume ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, indeed, Aunt Polly. I’ve got a beau- 
tiful trunk that the Ladies’ Aid gave me. I haven’t 
got so very much in, it — ■ of my own, I mean. The 
barrels haven’t had many clothes for little girls in 
them lately; but there were all father’s books, and 
Mrs. White said she thought I ought to have those. 
You see, father — ” 

“ Pollyanna,” interrupted her aunt again, 
sharply, “ there is one thing that might just as 
well be understood right away at once; and that 
is, I do not care to have you keep talking of your 
father to me.” 



FLUNG HERSELF INTO HER AUNT’S SCANDALIZED, UNYTFLD= 

}> 


ING LAP, 

























The Little Attic Room 


29 


The little girl drew in her breath tremulously. 

“ Why, Aunt Polly, you — you mean — ” She 
hesitated, and her aunt filled the pause. 

“ We will go up-stairs to your room. Your 
trunk is already there, I presume. I told Timothy 
to take it up — if you had one. You may follow 
me, Pollyanna. ,, 

Without speaking, Pollyanna turned and fol- 
lowed her aunt from the room. Her eyes were 
brimming with tears, but her chin was bravely 
high. 

“ After all, I — I reckon I’m glad she doesn’t 
want me to talk about father,” Pollyanna was 
thinking. “ It’ll be easier, maybe — if I don’t talk 
about him. Probably, anyhow, that is why she 
told me not to talk about him.” And Pollyanna, 
convinced anew of her aunt’s “ kindness,” blinked 
off the tears and looked eagerly about her. 

She was on the stairway now. Just ahead, her 
aunt’s black silk skirt rustled luxuriously. Behind 
her an open door allowed a glimpse of soft-tinted 
rugs and satin-covered chairs. Beneath her feet a 
marvellous carpet was like green moss to the tread. 
On every side the gilt of picture frames or the 
glint of sunlight through the filmy mesh of lace 
curtains flashed in her eyes. 


30 


Pollyanna 


“ Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly/ * breathed the 
little girl, rapturously; “what a perfectly lovely, 
lovely house! How awfully glad you must be 
you’re so rich ! ” 

“ Poll yanna!” ejaculated her aunt, turning 
sharply about as she reached the head of the 
stairs. “ Pm surprised at you — making a speech 
like that to me ! ” 

“ Why, Aunt Polly, aren't you ?” queried Polly- 
anna, in frank wonder. 

“ Certainly not, Pollyanna. I hope I could not 
so far forget myself as to be sinfully proud of any 
gift the Lord has seen fit to bestow upon me,” de- 
clared the lady; “certainly not, of riches /” 

Miss Polly turned and walked down the hall 
toward the attic stairway door. She was glad, 
now, that she had put the child in the attic room. 
Her idea at first had been to get her niece as far 
away as possible from herself, and at the same 
time place her where her childish heedlessness 
would not destroy valuable furnishings. Now — 
with this evident strain of vanity showing thus 
early — >it was all the more fortunate that the 
room planned for her was plain and sensible, 
thought Miss Polly. 

Eagerly Pollyanna’ s small feet pattered behind 


The Little Attic Room 31 


her aunt. Still more eagerly her big blue eyes tried 
to look in all directions at once, that no thing of 
beauty or interest in this wonderful house might 
be passed unseen. Most eagerly of all her mind 
turned to the wondrously exciting problem about to 
be solved: behind which of all these fascinating 
doors was waiting now her room — the dear, beau- 
tiful room full of curtains, rugs, and pictures, that 
was to be her very own? Then, abruptly, her 
aunt opened a door and ascended another stair- 
way. 

There was little to be seen here. A bare wall 
rose on either side. At the top of the stairs, wide 
reaches of shadowy space led to far corners where 
the roof came almost down to the floor, and where 
were stacked innumerable trunks and boxes. It was 
hot and stifling, too. Unconsciously Pollyanna 
lifted her head higher — it seemed so hard to 
breathe. Then she saw that her aunt had thrown 
open a door at the right. 

“ There, Pollyanna, here is your room, and your 
trunk is here, I see. Have you your key ? ” 

Pollyanna nodded dumbly. Her eyes were $ 
little wide and frightened. 

Her aunt frowned. 

“ When I ask a question, Pollyanna, I prefer that 


32 


Pollyanna 


you should answer aloud — not merely with your 
head.” 

“ Yes, Aunt Polly.” 

“ Thank you ; that is better. I believe you have 
everything that you need here,” she added, glancing 
at the well-filled towel rack and water pitcher. “ I 
will send Nancy up to help you unpack. Supper is 
at six o’clock,” she finished, as she left the room 
and swept down-stairs. 

For a moment after she had gone Pollyanna 
stood quite still, looking after her. Then she 
turned her wide eyes to the bare wall, the bare 
floor, the bare windows. She turned them last to 
the little trunk that had stood not so long before 
in her own little room in the far-away Western 
home. The next moment she stumbled blindly 
toward it and fell on her knees at its side, covering 
her face with her hands. 

Nancy found her there when she came up a few 
minutes later. 

“ There, there, you poor lamb,” she crooned, 
dropping to the floor and drawing the little girl 
into her arms. “ I was just a-fearin’ I’d find you 
like this, like this.” 

Pollyanna shook her head. 

' a But I’m bad and wicked, Nancy — awful 


The Little Attic Room 


33 


wicked,” she sobbed. “ I just can’t make myself 
understand that God and the angels needed my 
father more than I did.” 

“ No more they did, neither,” declared Nancy, 
stoutly. 

“Oh-h! — Nancy!” The burning horror in 
Pollyanna’s eyes dried the tears. 

Nancy gave a shamefaced smile and rubbed her 
own eyes vigorously. 

“ There, there, child, I didn’t mean it, of course,” 
she cried briskly. “ Come, let’s have your key and 
we’ll get inside this trunk and take our your dresses 
in no time, no time.” 

Somewhat tearfully Pollyanna produced the key. 

“ There aren’t very many there, anyway,” she 
faltered. 

“ Then they’re all the sooner unpacked,” declared 
Nancy. 

Pollyanna gave a sudden radiant smile. 

“ That’s so ! I can be glad of that, can’t I ? ” she 
cried. 

Nancy stared. 

“ Why, of — course,” she answered a little un- 
certainly. 

Nancy’s capable hands made short work of un- 
packing the books, the patched undergarments, and 


Pollyanna 


the few pitifully unattractive dresses. Pollyanna, 
smiling bravely now, flew about, hanging the 
dresses in the closet, stacking the books on the table, 
and putting away the undergarments in the bureau 
drawers. 

“ I’m sure it — it’s going to be a very nice room. 
Don’t you think so ? ” she stammered, after a while. 

There was no answer. Nancy was very busy, 
apparently, with her head in the trunk. Pollyanna, 
standing at the bureau, gazed a little wistfully at 
the bare wall above. 

“ And I can be glad there isn*t any looking-glass • 
here, too, ’cause where there isn’t any glass I can’t 
see my freckles.” 

Nancy made a sudden queer little sound with her 
mouth — but when Pollyanna turned, her head was 
in the trunk again. At one of the windows, a few 
minutes later, Pollyanna gave a glad cry and clapped 
her hands joyously. 

“ Oh, Nancy, I hadn’t seen this before,” she 
breathed. “ Look — ’way off there, with those 
trees and the houses and that lovely church spire, 
and the river shining just like silver. Why, Nancy, 
there doesn’t anybody need any pictures with that 
to look at. Oh, Pm so glad now she let me have 
this room ! ” 


The Little Attic Room 


35 


To Pollyanna’ s surprise and dismay, Nancy burst 
into tears. Pollyanna hurriedly crossed to her side. 

“ Why, Nancy, Nancy — 'what is it?” she cried; 
then, fearfully : “ This wasn’t — your room, was 

it?” 

“ My room ! ” stormed Nancy, hotly, choking 
back the tears. “If you ain’t a little angel straight 
from Heaven, and if some folks don’t eat dirt be- 
fore — Oh, land! there’s her bell! ” After which 
amazing speech, Nancy sprang to her feet, dashed 
out of the room, and went clattering down the 
stairs. 

Left alone, Pollyanna went back to her “ pic- 
ture,” as she mentally designated the beautiful view 
from the window. After a time she touched the 
sash tentatively. It seemed as if no longer could 
she endure the stifling heat. To her joy the sash 
moved under her fingers. The next moment the 
window was wide open, and Pollyanna was leaning 
far out, drinking in the fresh, sweet air. 

She ran then to the other window. That, too, 
soon flew up under her eager hands. A big fly 
swept past her nose, and buzzed noisily about the 
room. Then another came, and another; but 
Pollyanna paid no heed. Pollyanna had made a 
wonderful discovery — against this window a huge 


36 


Pollyanna 


tree flung great branches. To Pollyanna they 
looked like arms outstretched, inviting her. 

Suddenly she laughed aloud. 

“ I believe I can do it,” she chuckled. The next 
moment she had climbed nimbly to the window 
ledge. From there it was an easy matter to step 
to the nearest tree-branch. Then, clinging like a 
monkey, she swung herself from limb to limb until 
the lowest branch was reached. The drop to the 
ground was — even for Pollyanna, who was used 
to climbing trees — a little fearsome. She took it, 
however, with bated breath, swinging from her 
strong little arms, and landing on all fours in the 
soft grass. Then she picked herself up and looked 
eagerly about her. 

She was at the back of the house. Before her 
lay a garden in which a bent old man was working. 
Beyond the garden a little path through an open 
field led up a steep hill, at the top of which a lone 
pine tree stood on guard beside the huge rock. To 
Pollyanna, at the moment, there seemed to be just 
one place in the world worth being in — the top 
of that big rock. 

With a run and a skilful turn, Pollyanna skipped 
by the bent old man, threaded her way between the 
orderly rows of green growing things, and — a 


The Little Attic Room 


37 


little out of breath — reached the path that ran 
through the open field. Then, determinedly, she 
began to climb. Already, however, she was think- 
ing what a long, long way off that rock must 
be, when back at the window it had looked so 
near! 

Fifteen minutes later the great clock in the hall- 
way of the Harrington homestead struck six. At 
precisely the last stroke Nancy sounded the bell for 
supper. 

One, two, three minutes passed. Miss Polly 
frowned and tapped the floor with her slipper. A 
little jerkily she rose to her feet, went into the hall, 
and looked up-stairs, plainly impatient. For a 
minute she listened intently; then she turned and 
swept into the dining room. 

“ Nancy,” she said with decision, as soon as the 
little serving-maid appeared; “ my niece is late. No, 
you need not call her,” she added severely, as Nancy 
made a move toward the hall door. “ I told her 
what time supper was, and now she will have to 
suffer the consequences. She may as well begin at 
once to learn to be punctual. When she comes 
down she may have bread and milk in the kitchen.” 

“ Yes, ma’am.” It was well, perhaps, that Miss 


38 


Pollyanna 


Polly did not happen to be looking at Nancy’s face 
just then. 

At the earliest possible moment after supper, 
Nancy crept up the back stairs and thence to the 
attic room. 

“ Bread and milk, indeed ! — and when the poor 
lamb hain’t only just cried herself to sleep,” she 
was muttering fiercely, as she softly pushed open 
the door. The next moment she gave a frightened 
cry. “ Where are you ? Where’ve you gone ? 
Where have you gone? ” she panted, looking in the 
closet, under the bed, and even in the trunk and 
down the water pitcher. Then she flew down-stairs 
and out to Old Tom in the garden. 

“ Mr. Tom, Mr. Tom, that blessed child’s gone,” 
she wailed. “ She’s vanished right up into Heaven 
where she come from, poor lamb — and me told 
ter give her bread and milk in the kitchen — her 
what’s eatin’ angel food this minute, I’ll warrant, 
I’ll warrant!” 

The old man straightened up. 

“ Gone ? Heaven ? ” he repeated stupidly, un- 
consciously sweeping the brilliant sunset sky with 
his gaze. He stopped, stared a moment intently, 
then turned with a slow grin. “Well, Nancy, it 
do look like as if she’d tried ter get as nigh Heaven 


The Little Attic Room 


as she could, and that’s a fact,” he agreed, pointing 
with a crooked finger to where, sharply outlined 
against the reddening sky, a slender, wind-blown 
figure was poised on top of a huge rock. 

“ Well, she ain’t goin’ ter Heaven that way ter- 
night — not if I has my say,” declared Nancy, 
doggedly. “If the mistress asks, tell her I ain’t 
furgettin’ the dishes, but I gone on a stroll,” she 
flung back over her shoulder, as she sped toward 
the path that led through the open field. 


CHAPTER V 


THE GAME 

“ For the land’s sake, Miss Pollyanna, what a 
scare you did give me,” panted Nancy, hurrying 
up to the big rock, down which Pollyanna had just 
regretfully slid. 

“ Scare ? Oh, I’m so sorry ; but you mustn’t, 
really, ever get scared about me, Nancy. Father 
and the Ladies’ Aid used to do it, too, till they 
found I always came back all right.” 

“ But I didn’t even know you’d went,” cried 
Nancy, tucking the little girl’s hand under her arm 
and hurrying her down the hill. “ I didn’t see you 
go, and nobody didn’t. I guess you flew right up 
through the roof; I do, I do.” 

Pollyanna skipped gleefully. 

“ I did, ’most — only I flew down instead of up. 
I came down the tree.” 

Nancy stopped short. 

“You did — what?” 

“ Came down the tree, outside my window.” 

40 


The Game 


41 


“ My stars and stockings ! ” gasped Nancy, hurry- 
ing on again. “ I’d like ter know what yer aunt 
would say ter that ! ” 

“ Would you? Well, I’ll tell her, then, so 
you can find out,” promised the little girl, cheer- 
fully. 

“ Mercy ! ” gasped Nancy. “ No — no ! ” 

“Why, you don’t mean she’d care!” cried 
Pollyanna, plainly disturbed. 

“No — er — yes — well, never mind. I — I 
ain’t so very particular about knowin’ what she’d 
say, truly,” stammered Nancy, determined to keep 
one scolding from Pollyanna, if nothing more. 
“ But, say, we better hurry. I’ve got ter get them 
dishes done, ye know.” 

“ I’ll help,” promised Pollyanna, promptly. 

“ Oh, Miss Pollyanna ! ” demurred Nancy. 

For a moment there was silence. The sky was 
darkening fast. Pollyanna took a firmer hold of her 
friend’s arm. 

“ I reckon I’m glad, after all, that you did get 
scared — a little, ’cause then you came after me,” 
she shivered. 

“ Poor little lamb ! And you must be hungry, 
too. I — I’m afraid you’ll have ter have bread and 
milk in the kitchen with me. Yer aunt didn’t like 


42 


Pollyanna 


it — because you didn’t come down ter supper, ye 
know.” 

“ But I couldn’t. I was up here.” 

“Yes; but — she didn’t know that, you see,” 
observed Nancy, dryly, stifling a chuckle. “ I’m 
sorry about the bread and milk; I am, I am.” 

“ Oh, I’m not. I’m glad.” 

“Glad! Why?” 

“ Why, I like bread and milk, and I’d like to eat 
with you. I don’t see any trouble about being glad 
about that.” 

“ You don’t seem ter see any trouble bein’ glad 
about everythin’,” retorted Nancy, choking a little 
over her remembrance of Pollyanna’s brave at- 
tempts to like the bare little attic room. 

Pollyanna laughed softly. 

“ Well, that’s the game, you know, anyway.” 

“ The — game f ” 

“ Yes; the ‘ just being glad ’ game.” 

“ Whatever in the world are you talkin’ about ? ” 

“ Why, it’s a game. Father told it to me, and 
it’s lovely,” rejoined Pollyanna. “ We’ve played 
it always, ever since I was a little, little girl. I told 
the Ladies’ Aid, and they played it — some of 
them.” 

“What is it? I ain’t much on games, though.” 


The Game 


43 


Pollyanna laughed again, but she sighed, too; 
and in the gathering twilight her face looked thin 
and wistful. 

“ Why, we began it on some crutches that came 
in a missionary barrel.” 

“ Crutches! ” 

“ Yes. You see I’d wanted a doll, and father had 
written them so ; but when the barrel came the lady 
wrote that there hadn’t any dolls come in, but the 
little crutches had. So she sent ’em along as they 
might come in handy for some child, sometime. 
And that’s when we began it.” 

“ Well, I must say I can’t see any game about 
that, about that,” declared Nancy, almost irri- 
tably. 

“ Oh, yes; the game was to just find something 
about everything to be glad about — no matter what 
’twas,” rejoined Pollyanna, earnestly. “ And we 
began right then — on the crutches.” 

“Well, goodness me! I can’t see anythin’ ter 
be glad about — gettin’ a pair of crutches when 
you wanted a doll ! ” 

Pollyanna clapped her hands. 

“ There is — there is,” she crowed. “ But I 
couldn’t see it, either, Nancy, at first,” she added, 
with quick honesty. “ Father had to tell it to me.” 


44 


Pollyanna 


“ Well, then, suppose you tell me” almost 
snapped Nancy. 

“ Goosey! Why, just be glad because you don’t 
— need — ’em!” exulted Pollyanna, triumphantly. 
“ You see it’s just as easy — when you know how ! ” 

“ Well, of all the queer doin’s! ” breathed Nancy, 
regarding Pollyanna with almost fearful eyes. 

“ Oh, but it isn’t queer — it’s lovely,” maintained 
Pollyanna enthusiastically. “ And we’ve played it 
ever since. And the harder ’tis, the more fun ’tis 
to get ’em out; only — only — sometimes it’s al- 
most too hard — like when your father goes to 
Heaven, and there isn’t anybody but a Ladies’ Aid 
left.” 

“ Yes, or when you’re put in a snippy little room 
’way at the top of the house with nothin’ in it,” 
growled Nancy. 

Pollyanna sighed. 

“ That was a hard one, at first,” she admitted, 
“ specially when I was so kind of lonesome. I just 
didn’t feel like playing the game, anyway, and I 
had been wanting pretty things, so! Then I hap- 
pened to think how I hated to see my freckles in 
the looking-glass, and I saw that lovely picture out 
the window, too; so then I knew I’d found the 
things to be glad about. You see, when you’re 


The Game 


45 


hunting for the glad things, you sort of forget 
the other kind — like the doll you wanted, you 
know.” 

“ Humph ! ” choked^ancy, trying to swallow the 
lump in her throat. 

“ Most generally it doesn't take so long,” sighed 
Pollyanna; “ and lots of times now I just think of 
them without thinking, you know. I’ve got so used 
to playing it. It’s a lovely game. F-father and I 
used to like it so much,” she faltered. “ I suppose, 
though, it — it’ll be a little harder now, as long as 
I haven’t anybody to play it with. Maybe Aunt 
Polly will play it, though,” she added, as an after- 
thought. 

“ My stars and stockings ! ■ — her! ” breathed 
Nancy, behind her teeth. Then, aloud, she said 
doggedly : “ See here, Miss Pollyanna, I ain’t 
say in’ that I’ll play it very well, and I ain’t say in’ 
that I know how, anyway; but I’ll play it with ye, 
after a fashion — I just will, I will ! ” 

“Oh, Nancy!” exulted Pollyanna, giving her a 
rapturous hug. “That’ll be splendid! Won’t we 
have fun? ” 

“ Er — maybe,” conceded Nancy, in open doubt. 
“ But you mustn’t count too much on me, ye know. 
I never was no case fur games, but I’m a-goin’ ter 


46 


Pollyanna 


make a most awful, old try on this one. You’re 
goin’ ter have some one ter play it with, any- 
how,” she finished, as they entered the kitchen 
together. 

Pollyanna ate her bread and milk with good ap- 
petite; then, at Nancy’s suggestion, she went into 
the sitting room, where her aunt sat reading. 

Miss Polly looked up coldly. 

“ Have you had your supper, Pollyanna ? ” 

“ Yes, Aunt Polly.” 

“ Pm very sorry, Pollyanna, to have been obliged 
so soon to send you into the kitchen to eat bread 
and milk.” 

“ But I was real glad you did it, Aunt Polly. I 
like bread and milk, and Nancy, too. You mustn’t 
feel bad about that one bit.” 

Aunt Polly sat suddenly a little more erect in her 
chair. 

“ Pollyanna, it’s quite time you were in bed. You 
have had a hard day, and to-morrow we must plan 
your hours and go over your clothing to see what 
it is necessary to get for you Nancy will give you 
a candle. Be careful how you handle it. Breakfast 
will be at half-past seven. See that you are down 
to that. Good-night.” 

Quite as a matter of course, Pollyanna came 


The Game 


47 


straight to her aunt’s side and gave her an affec- 
tionate hug. 

“ I’ve had such a beautiful time, so far,” she 
sighed happily. “ I know I’m going to just love 
living with you — but then, I knew I should before 
I came. Good-night,” she called cheerfully, as she 
ran from the room. 

“Well, upon my soul!” ejaculated Miss Polly, 
half aloud. “ What a most extraordinary child ! ” 
Then she frowned. “ She’s ‘ glad ’ I punished her, 
and I ‘ mustn’t feel bad one bit,’ and she’s going to 
Move to live’ with me! Well, upon my soul!” 
ejaculated Miss Polly again, as she took up her 
book. 

Fifteen minutes later, in the attic room, a lonely 
little girl sobbed into the tightly-clutched sheet: 

“ I know, father-among-the-angels, I’m not play- 
ing the game one bit now — not one bit ; but I 
don’t believe even you could find anything to be 
glad about sleeping all alone ’way off up here in 
the dark — like this. If only I was near Nancy 
or Aunt Polly, or even a Ladies’ Aider, it would 
be easier ! ” 

Down-stairs in the kitchen, Nancy, hurrying with 
her belated work, jabbed her dish -mop into the 
milk pitcher, and muttered jerkily: 


48 


Pollyanna 


“ If playin’ a silly-fool game — about bein' glad 
you’ve got crutches when you want dolls — is got 
ter be — my way — o' bein’ that rock o’ refuge — 
why. I’m a-goin’ ter play it — I am, I am!” 


CHAPTER VI 


A QUESTION OF DUTY 

It was nearly seven o’clock when Pollyanna 
awoke that first day after her arrival. Her win- 
dows faced the south and the west, so she could 
not see the sun yet ; but she could see the hazy blue 
of the morning sky, and she knew that the day 
promised to be a fair one. 

The little room was cooler now, and the air blew 
in fresh and sweet. Outside, the birds were twit- 
tering joyously, and Pollyanna flew to the window 
to talk to them. She saw then that down in the 
garden her aunt was already out among the rose- 
bushes. With rapid fingers, therefore, she made 
herself ready to join her. 

Down the attic stairs sped Pollyanna, leaving 
both doors wide open. Through the hall, down the 
next flight, then bang through the front screened- 
door and around to the garden, she ran. 

Aunt Polly, with the bent old man, was leaning 
over a rose-bush when Pollyanna, gurgling with 
delight, flung herself upon her. 

49 


50 


Pollyanna 


“ Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, I reckon I am 
glad this morning just to be alive! ” 

“Poll ycrnna!” remonstrated the lady, sternly, 
pulling herself as erect as she could with a drag- 
ging weight of ninety pounds hanging about her 
neck. “ Is this the usual way you say good morn- 
ing?” 

The little girl dropped to her toes, and danced 
lightly up and down. 

“ No, only when I love folks so I just can’t help 
it! I saw you from my window, Aunt Polly, and 
I got to thinking how you weren't a Ladies’ Aider, 
and you were my really truly aunt ; and you looked 
so good I just had to come down and hug you! ” 

The bent old man turned his back suddenly. Miss 
Polly attempted a frown — with not her usual suc- 
cess. 

“ Pollyanna, you — I — Thomas, that will do for 
this morning. I think you understand — about 
those rose-bushes,” she said stiffly. Then she turned 
and walked rapidly away. 

“ Do you always work in the garden, Mr. — 
Man ? ” asked Pollyanna, interestedly. 

The man turned. His lips were twitching, but 
his eyes looked blurred as if with tears. 

“ Yes, Miss. I’m Old Tom, the gardener,” he 


A Question of Duty 51 


answered. Timidly, but as if impelled by an irre- 
sistible force, he reached out a shaking hand and 
let it rest for a moment on her bright hair. “ You 
are so like your mother, little Miss! I used ter 
know her when she was even littler than you be. 
You see, I used ter work in the garden — then.” 

Pollyanna caught her breath audibly. 

“ You did? And you knew my mother, really — 
when she was just a little earth angel, and not a 
Heaven one ? Oh, please tell me about her ! ” And 
down plumped Pollyanna in the middle of the dirt 
path by the old man’s side. 

A bell sounded from the house. The next mo- 
ment Nancy was seen flying out the back door. 

“ Miss Pollyanna, that bell means breakfast — 
mornin’s,” she panted, pulling the little girl to her 
feet and hurrying her back to the house ; “ and other 
times it means other meals. But it always means 
that you’re ter run like time when ye hear it, no 
matter where ye be. If ye don’t — well, it’ll take 
somethin’ smarter’n we be ter find anythin' ter be 
glad about in that ! ” she finished, shooing Polly- 
anna into the house as she would shoo an unruly 
chicken into a coop. 

Breakfast, for the first five minutes, was a silent 
i meal; then Miss Polly, her disapproving eyes fol- 


52 


Pollyanna 


lowing the airy wings of two flies darting here and 
there over the table, said sternly: 

“Nancy, where did those flies come from? ,; 

“ I don’t know, ma’am. There wasn’t one in the 
kitchen.” Nancy had been too excited to notice 
Pollyanna’s up-flung windows the afternoon before. < 

“ I reckon maybe they’re my flies, Aunt Polly,” 
observed Pollyanna, amiably. “ There were lots of 
them this morning having a beautiful time up- 
stairs.” 

Nancy left the room precipitately, though to do 
so she had to carry out the hot muffins she had just 
brought in. 

“Yours!” gasped Miss Polly. “What do you 
mean ? Where did they come from ? ” 

“ Why, Aunt Polly, they came from out of doors, 
of course, through the windows. I saw some of 
them come in.” 

“You saw them! You mean you raised those 
windows without any screens ? ” 

“ Why, yes. There weren’t any screens there, 
Aunt Polly.” 

Nancy, at this moment, came in again with the 
muffins. Her face was grave, but very red. 

“ Nancy,” directed her mistress, sharply, “ you 
may set the muffins down and go at once to Miss 


N 


A Question of Duty 


53 


Pollyanna’s room and shut the windows. Shut the 
doors, also. Later, when your morning work is 
done, go through every room with the spatter. See 
that you make a thorough search.” 

To her niece she said : 

“ Pollyanna, I have ordered screens for those 
windows. I knew, of course, that it was my duty 
to do that. But it seems to me that you have quite 
forgotten your duty.” 

“My — duty?” Pollyanna’s eyes were wide 
with wonder. 

“ Certainly. I know it is warm, but I consider 
it your duty to l^eep your windows closed till those 
screens come. Flies, Pollyanna, are not only un- 
clean and annoying, but very dangerous to health. 
After breakfast I will give you a little pamphlet on 
this matter to read.” 

“To read? Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly. I love 
to read ! ” 

Miss Polly drew in her breath audibly, then she 
shut her lips together hard. Pollyanna, seeing her 
stern face, frowned a little thoughtfully. 

“ Of course Pm sorry about the duty I forgot, 
Aunt Polly,” she apologized timidly. “ I won’t 
raise the windows again.” 

Her aunt made no reply. She did not speak, in- 


54 


Pollyanna 


deed, until the meal was over. Then she rose, went 
to the bookcase in the sitting room, took out a small ^ 
paper booklet, and crossed the room to her niece’s 
side. 

“ This is the article I spoke of, Pollyanna. I de- 
sire you to go to your room at once and read it. I 
will be up in half an hour to look over your things.” 

Pollyanna, her eyes on the illustration of a fly’s 
head, many times magnified, cried joyously: 

“ Oh, thank you, Aunt Polly ! ” The next mo- 
ment she skipped merrily from the room, banging 
the door behind her. 

Miss Polly frowned, hesitated, then crossed the 
room majestically and opened the door; but Polly- 
anna was already out of sight, clattering up the 
attic stairs. 

Half an hour later when Miss Polly, her face ex- 
pressing stern duty in every line, climbed those 
stairs and entered Pollyanna’s room, she was 
greeted with a burst of eager enthusiasm. 

“ Oh, Aunt Polly, I never saw anything so per- 
fectly lovely and interesting in my life. I’m so glad 
you gave me that book to read! Why, I didn’t 
suppose flies could carry such a lot of things on 
their feet, and — ” 

“ That will do,” observed Aunt Polly, with dig- 


A Question of Duty 


55 


nity. “ Pollyanna, you may bring out your clothes 
now, and I will look them over. What are not suit- 
able for you I shall give to the Sullivans, of course.” 

With visible reluctance Pollyanna laid down the 
pamphlet and turned toward the closet. 

“ Pm afraid you’ll think they’re worse than the 
Ladies’ Aid did — and they said they were shame- 
ful,” she sighed. “ But there were mostly things 
for boys and older folks in the last two or three 
barrels ; and — did you ever have a missionary 
barrel, Aunt Polly?” 

At her aunt’s look of shocked anger, Pollyanna 
corrected herself at once. 

“ Why, no, of course you didn’t, Aunt Polly ! ” 
she hurried on, with a hot blush. “ I forgot ; rich 
folks never have to have them. But you see some- 
times I kind of forget that you are rich — up here 
in this room, you know.” 

Miss Polly’s lips parted indignantly, but no words 
came. Pollyanna, plainly unaware that she had 
said anything in the least unpleasant, was hurrying 
on. 

“ Well, as I was going to say, you can’t tell a 
thing about missionary barrels — except that you 
won’t find in ’em what you think you’re going to — 
even when you think you won’t. It was the barrels 


56 


Pollyanna 


every time, too, that were hardest to play the game 
on, for father and — ” 

Just in time Pollyanna remembered that she was 
not to talk of her father to her aunt. She dived 
into her closet then, hurriedly, and brought out all 
the poor little dresses in both her arms. 

“ They aren’t nice, at all,” she choked, “ and 
they’d been black if it hadn’t been for the red carpet 
for the church; but they’re all I’ve got.” 

With the tips of her fingers Miss Polly turned 
over the conglomerate garments, so obviously made 
for anybody but Pollyanna. Next she bestowed 
frowning attention on the patched undergarments 
in the bureau drawers. 

“ I’ve got the best ones on,” confessed Polly- 
anna, anxiously. “ The Ladies’ Aid bought me one 
set straight through all whole. Mrs. Jones — she’s 
the president — told ’em I should have that if they 
had to clatter down bare aisles themselves the rest 
of their days. But they won’t. Mr. White doesn’t 
like the noise. He’s got nerves, his wife says; but 
he’s got money, too, and they expect he’ll give a lot 
toward the carpet — on account of the nerves, you 
know. I should think he’d be glad that if he did 
have the nerves he’d got money, too; shouldn’t 
you?” 


A Question of Duty 57 


Miss Polly did not seem to hear. Her scrutiny 
of the undergarments finished, she turned to Polly- 
anna somewhat abruptly. 

“ You have been to school, of course, Polly- 
anna? ” 

“ Oh, yes, Aunt Polly. Besides, fath — I mean, 
I was taught at home some, too.” 

Miss Polly frowned. 

“ Very good. In the fall you will enter school 
here, of course. Mr. Hall, the principal, will doubt- 
less settle jin which grade you belong. Meanwhile, 
I suppose I ought to hear you read aloud half an 
hour each day.” 

“ I love to read ; but if you don’t want to hear 
me I’d be just glad to read to myself — truly, 
Aunt Polly. And I wouldn’t have to half try 
to be glad, either, for I like best to read to 
myself — on account of the big words, you 
know.” 

“ I don’t doubt it,” rejoined Miss Polly, grimly. 
“ Have you studied music ? ” 

“ Not much. I don’t like my music — I like 
other people’s, though. I learned to play on the 
piano a little. Miss Gray — she plays for church — 
she taught me. But I’d just as soon let that go as 
not, Aunt Polly. I’d rather, truly.” 


58 


Pollyanna 


“ Very likely/’ observed Aunt Polly, with 
slightly uplifted eyebrows. “ Nevertheless I think 
it is my duty to see that you are properly instructed 
in at least the rudiments of music. You sew, of 
course.” 

“ Yes, ma’am.” Pollyanna sighed. “ The 
Ladies’ Aid taught me that. But I had an awful 
time. Mrs. Jones didn’t believe in holding your 
needle like the rest of ’em did on buttonholing, 
and Mrs. White thought backstitching ought to be 
taught you before hemming (or else the other way), 
and Mrs. Harriman didn’t believe in putting you on 
patchwork ever, at all.” 

“ Well, there will be no difficulty of that kind any 
longer, Pollyanna. I shall teach you sewing my- 
self, of course. You do not know how to cook, I 
presume.” 

Pollyanna laughed suddenly. 

“ They were just beginning to teach me that this 
summer, but I hadn’t got far. They were more 
divided up on that than they were on the sewing. 
They were going to begin on bread; but there 
wasn’t two of ’em that made it alike, so after ar- 
guing it all one sewing-meeting, they decided to 
take turns at me one forenoon a week — in their 
own kitchens, you know. I’d only learned chocolate 


A Question of Duty 


59 


fudge and fig cake, though, when — when I had to 
stop.” Her voice broke. 

“ Chocolate fudge and fig cake, indeed ! ” scorned 
Miss Polly. “ I think we can remedy that very 
soon.” She paused in thought for a minute, then 
went on slowly : “ At nine o’clock every morning 
you will read aloud one half-hour to me. Before 
that you will use the time to put this room in order. 
Wednesday and Saturday forenoons, after half-past 
nine, you will spend with Nancy in the kitchen, 
learning to cook. Other mornings you will sew with 
me. That will leave the afternoons for your music. 
I shall, of course, procure a teacher at once for 
you,” she finished decisively, as she arose from her 
chair. 

Pollyanna cried out in dismay. 

“ Oh, but Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, you haven’t 
left me any time at all just to — to live.” 

“ To live, child! What do you mean? As if 
you weren’t living all the time!” 

“ Oh, of course I’d be breathing all the time I 
was doing those things, Aunt Polly, but I wouldn’t 
be living. You breathe all the time you’re asleep, 
but you aren’t living. I mean living — doing the 
things you want to do : playing outdoors, reading 
(to myself, of course), climbing hills, talking to Mr. 


60 


Pollyanna 


Tom in the garden, and Nancy, and finding out all 
about the houses and the people and everything 
everywhere all through the perfectly lovely streets 
I came through yesterday. That’s what I call 
living, Aunt Polly. Just breathing isn’t liv- 
ing!” 

Miss Polly lifted her head irritably. 

“ Pollyanna, you are the most extraordinary 
child! You will be allowed a proper amount of 
playtime, of course. But, surely, it seems to me if 
I am willing to do my duty in seeing that you have 
proper care and instruction, you ought to be willing 
to do yours by seeing that that care and instruction 
are not ungratefully wasted.” 

Pollyanna looked shocked. 

“ Oh, Aunt Polly, as if I ever could be un- 
grateful — to you! Why, I love you — and 
you aren’t even a Ladies’ Aider; you’re an 
aunt!” 

“ Very well ; then see that you don’t act ungrate- 
ful,” vouchsafed Miss Polly, as she turned toward 
the door. 

She had gone halfway down the stairs when a 
small, unsteady voice called after her: 

“ Please, Aunt Polly, you didn’t tell me which 
of my things you wanted to — to give away.” 


A Question of Duty 


61 


Aunt Polly emitted a tired sigh — a sigh that 
ascended straight to Pollyanna’s ears. 

“ Oh, I forgot to tell you, Pollyanna. Timothy 
will drive us into town at half-past one this after- 
noon. Not one of your garments is fit for my niece 
to wear. Certainly I should be very far from doing 
my duty by you if I should let you appear out in 
any one of them. ,, 

Pollyanna sighed now — she believed she was 
going to hate that word — duty. 

“ Aunt Polly, please,” she called wistfully, “ isn’t 
there any way you can be glad about all that — duty 
business? ” 

“What?” Miss Polly looked up in dazed sur- 
prise; then, suddenly, with very red cheeks, she 
turned and swept angrily down the stairs. “ Don’t 
be impertinent, Pollyanna ! ” 

In the hot little attic room Pollyanna dropped 
herself on to one of the straight-backed chairs. To 
her, existence loomed ahead one endless round of 
duty. 

“ I don’t see, really, what there was impertinent 
about that,” she sighed. “ I was only asking her if 
she couldn’t tell me something to be glad about in 
all that duty business.” 

For several minutes Pollyanna sat in silence, her 


62 


Follyanna 


rueful eyes fixed on the forlorn heap of garments 
on the bed. Then, slowly, she rose and began to 
put away the dresses. 

“ There just isn’t anything to be glad about, that 
I can see,” she said aloud ; “ unless — it’s to be glad 
when the duty’s done ! ” Whereupon she laughed 
suddenly. 


CHAPTER VII 


POLLYANNA AND PUNISHMENTS 

At half-past one o’clock Timothy drove Miss 
Polly and her niece to the four or five principal dry 
goods stores, which were about half a mile from 
the homestead. 

Fitting Pollyanna with a new wardrobe proved 
to be more or less of an exciting experience for all 
concerned. Miss Polly came out of it with the feel- 
ing of limp relaxation that one might have at find- 
ing oneself at last on solid earth after a perilous 
walk across the very thin crust of a volcano. The 
various clerks who had waited upon the pair came 
out of it with very red faces, and enough amusing 
stories of Pollyanna to keep their friends in gales 
of laughter the rest of the week. Pollyanna herself 
came out of it with radiant smiles and a heart con- 
tent; for, as she expressed it to one of the clerks: 
“ When you haven’t had anybody but missionary 
barrels and Ladies’ Aiders to dress you, it is per- 
fectly lovely to just walk right in and buy clothes 
63 


64 


Pollyanna 


■■"■■■■ '■ "S* * 

that are brand-new, and that don’t have to be tucked 
up or let down because they don’t fit ! ” 

The shopping expedition consumed the entire 
afternoon; then came supper and a delightful talk 
with Old Tom in the garden, and another with 
Nancy on the back porch, after the dishes were done, 
and while Aunt Polly paid a visit to a neighbor. 

Old Tom told Pollyanna wonderful things of her 
mother, that made her very happy indeed; and 
Nancy told her all about the little farm six miles 
away at “ The Corners,” where lived her own dear 
mother, and her equally dear brother and sisters. 
She promised, too, that sometime, *i Miss Polly 
were willing, Pollyanna should be taken to see them. 

“ And they've got lovely names, too. You’ll like 
their names,” sighed Nancy. “ They’re ‘ Algernon,’ 
and ‘ Florabelle ’ and ‘ Estelle.’ I — I just hate 
‘ Nancy ’ ! ” 

“ Oh, Nancy, what a dreadful thing to say! 
Why?” 

“ Because it isn’t pretty like the others. You see, 
I was the first baby, and mother hadn’t begun ter 
read so many stories with the pretty names in ’em, 
then.” 

“ But I love ‘ Nancy,’ just because it’s you,” de- 
clared Pollyanna. 


Pollyanna and' Punishments 


65 


“Humph! Well, I guess you could love ‘Cla- 
rissa Mabelle ’ just as well,” retorted Nancy, “ and 
it would be a heap happier for me. I think that 
name’s just grand ! ” 

Pollyanna laughed. 

“ Well, anyhow,” she chuckled, “ you can be glad 
it isn’t ‘ Hephzibah.’ ” 

“ Hephzibah!” 

“ Yes. Mrs. White’s name is that. Her husband 
calls her ‘ Hep,’ and she doesn’t like it. She says 
when he calls out ‘Hep — Hep!’ she feels just as 
if the next minute he was going to yell ‘ Hurrah ! ’ 
And she doesn’t like to be hurrahed at.” 

Nancy’s gloomy face relaxed into a broad smile. 

“ Well, if you don’t beat the Dutch ! Say, do you 
know? — I sha’n’t never hear ‘ Nancy’ now that I 
don’t think o’ that ‘ Hep — Hep ! ’ and giggle. My, 
I guess I am glad — ” She stopped short and 
turned amazed eyes on the little girl. “ Say, Miss 
Pollyanna, do you mean — was you playin’ that ’ere 
game then — about my bein’ glad I wa’n’t named 
‘ Hephzibah ’ ? ” 

Pollyanna frowned ; then' she laughed. 

“ Why, Nancy, that’s so ! I utas playing the game 
— but that’s one of the times I just did it without 
thinking, I reckon. You see, you do, lots of times; 


66 


Pollyanna 


you get so used to it — looking for something to 
be glad about, you know. And most generally there 
is something about everything that you can be glad 
about, if you keep hunting long enough to find it.” 

“ Well, m-maybe,” granted Nancy, with open 
doubt. 

At half-past eight Pollyanna went up to bed. 
The screens had not yet come, and the close little 
room was like an oven. With longing eyes Polly- 
anna looked at the two fast-closed windows — but 
she did not raise them. She undressed, folded her 
clothes neatly, said her prayers, blew out her candle 
and climbed into bed. 

Just how long she lay in sleepless misery, tossing 
from side to side of the hot little cot, she did not 
know; but it seemed to her that it must have been 
hours before she finally slipped out of bed, felt her 
way across the room and opened her door. 

Out in the main attic all was velvet blackness save 
where the moon flung a path of silver half-way 
across the floor from the east dormer window. 
With a resolute ignoring of that fearsome darkness 
to the right and to the left, Pollyanna drew a quick 
breath and pattered straight into that silvery path, 
and on to the window. 


Pollyanna and Punishments 67 


She had hoped, vaguely, that this window might 
have a screen, but it did not. Outside, however, 
there was a wide world of fairy-like beauty, and 
there was, too, she knew, fresh, sweet air that would 
feel so good to hot cheeks and hands ! 

As she stepped nearer and peered longingly out, 
she saw something else : she saw, only a little way 
below the window, the wide, flat tin roof of Miss 
Polly’s sun parlor built over the porte-cochere. The 
sight filled her with longing. If only, now, she 
were out there ! 

Fearfully she looked behind her. Back there, 
somewhere, were her hot little room and her still 
hotter bed; but between her and them lay a horrid 
desert of blackness across which one must feel one’s 
way with outstretched, shrinking arms; while be- 
fore her, out on the sun-parlor roof, were the moon- 
light and the cool, sweet night air. 

If only her bed were out there ! And folks did 
sleep out of doors. Joel Hartley at home, who was 
so sick with the consumption, had to sleep out of 
doors. 

Suddenly Pollyanna remembered that she had 
seen near this attic window a row of long white 
bags hanging from nails. Nancy had said that 
they contained the winter clothing, put away for 


68 


Pollyanna 


the summer. A little fearfully now, Pollyanna felt 
her way to these bags, selected a nice fat soft one 
(it contained Miss Polly’s sealskin coat) for a bed; 
and a thinner one to be doubled up for a pillow, 
and still another (which was so thin it seemed al- 
most empty) for a covering. Thus equipped, Polly- 
anna in high glee pattered to the moonlit window 
again, raised the sash, stuffed her burden through 
to the roof below, then let herself down after it, 
closing the window carefully behind her — Polly- 
anna had not forgotten those flies with the marvel- 
lous feet that carried things. 

How deliciously cool it was! Pollyanna quite 
danced up and down with delight, drawing in long, 
full breaths of the refreshing air. The tin roof 
under her feet crackled with little resounding snaps 
that Pollyanna rather liked. She walked, indeed, 
two or three times back and forth from end to end 
— it gave her such a pleasant sensation of airy 
space after her hot little room; and the roof was 
30 broad and flat that she had no fear of falling off. 
Finally, with a sigh of content, she curled herself 
up on the sealskin-coat mattress, arranged one bag 
for a pillow and the other for a covering, and set- 
tled herself to sleep. 

“ I’m so glad now that the screens didn’t come,” 


Pollyanna and Punishments 69 


she murmured, blinking up at the stars ; “ else I 
couldn’t have had this ! ” 

Down-stairs in Miss Polly’s room next the sun 
parlor, Miss Polly herself was hurrying into dress- 
ing gown and slippers, her face white and fright- 
ened. A minute before she had been telephoning 
in a shaking voice to Timothy: 

“ Come up quick ! — you and your father. Bring 
lanterns. Somebody is on the roof of the sun par- 
lor. He must have climbed up the rose-trellis or 
somewhere, and of course he can get right into the 
house through the east window in the attic. I have 
locked the attic door down here — but hurry, 
quick!” 

Some time later, Pollyanna, just dropping off to 
sleep, was startled by a lantern flash, and a trio of 
amazed ejaculations. She opened her eyes to find 
Timothy at the top of a ladder near her, Old Tom 
just getting through the window, and her aunt peer- 
ing out at her from behind him. 

“ Pollyanna, what does this mean ? ” cried Aunt 
Polly then. 

Pollyanna blinked sleepy eyes and sat up. 

‘‘Why, Mr. Tom — Aunt Polly!” she stam- 
mered. “ Don’t look so scared ! It isn’t that I’ve 
got the consumption, you know, like Joel Hartley. 


Pollyanna 


ffO 


It’s only that I was so hot — in there. But I shut 
the window, Aunt Polly, so the flies couldn’t carry 
those germ-things in.” 

Timothy disappeared suddenly down the ladder. 
Old Tom, with almost equal precipitation, handed 
his lantern to Miss Polly, and followed his son. 
Miss Polly bit her lip hard — until the men were 
gone ; then she said sternly : 

“ Pollyanna, hand those things to me at once and 
come in here. Of all the extraordinary children! ” 
she ejaculated a little later, as, with Pollyanna by 
her side, and the lantern in her hand, she turned 
back into the attic. 

To Pollyanna the air was all the more stifling 
after that cool breath of the out of doors; but she 
did not complain. She only drew a long quivering 
sigh. 

At the top of the stairs Miss Polly jerked out 
crisply : 

“ For the rest of the night, Pollyanna, you are 
to sleep in my bed with me. The screens will be 
here to-morrow, but until then I consider it my duty 
to keep you where I know where you are.” 

Pollyanna drew in her breath. 

“ With you ? — in your bed ? ” she cried raptur- 
ously. “ Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, how per- 


Pollyanna and Punishments 71 


fectly lovely of you! And when I’ve so wanted to 
sleep with some one sometime — some one that be- 
longed to me, you know ; not a Ladies’ Aider. I’ve 
had them. My! I reckon I am glad now those 
screens didn’t come! Wouldn’t you be? ” 

There was no reply. Miss Polly was stalking on 
ahead. Miss Polly, to tell the truth, was feeling 
curiously helpless. For the third time since Polly- 
anna’s arrival, Miss Polly was punishing Pollyanna 
» — and for the third time she was being confronted 
with the amazing fact that her punishment was 
being taken as a special reward of merit. No won- 
der Miss Polly was feeling curiously helpless. 


CHAPTER VIII 


POLLYANNA PAYS A VISIT 

It was not long before life at the Harrington 
homestead settled into something like order — • 
though not exactly the order that Miss Polly had 
at first prescribed. Pollyanna sewed, practised, read 
aloud, and studied cooking in the kitchen, it is true ; 
but she did not give to any of these things quite 
so much time as had first been planned. She had 
more time, also, to “ just live,” as she expressed 
it, for almost all of every afternoon from two until 
six o’clock was hers to do with as she liked — pro- 
vided she did not “ like ” to do certain things al- 
ready prohibited by Aunt Polly. 

It is a question, perhaps, whether all this leisure 
time was given to the child as a relief to Pollyanna 
from work — or as a relief to Aunt Polly from 
Pollyanna. Certainly, as those first July days 
passed, Miss Polly found occasion many times to 
ejaculate “ What an extraordinary child! ” and cer- 
tainly the reading and sewing lessons found her at 
72 


Pollyanna Pays a Visit 


73 


their conclusion each day somewhat dazed and 
wholly exhausted. 

Nancy, in the kitchen, fared better. She was 
not dazed nor exhausted. Wednesdays and Satur- 
days came to be, indeed, red-letter days to her. 

There were no children in the immediate neigh- 
borhood of the Harrington homestead for Polly- 
anna to play with. The house itself was on the 
outskirts of the village, and though there were other 
houses not far away, they did not chance to contain 
any boys or girls near Pollyanna’s age. This, how- 
ever, did not seem to disturb Pollyanna in the least. 

“ Oh, no, I don’t mind it at all,” she explained 
to Nancy. “ Pm happy just to walk around and 
see the streets and the houses and watch the people. 
I just love people. Don’t you, Nancy? ” 

“ Well, I can’t say I do — all of ’em,” retorted 
Nancy, tersely. 

Almost every pleasant afternoon found Pollyanna 
begging for “ an errand to run,” so that she might 
be off for a walk in one direction or another; and 
it was on these walks that frequently she met the 
Man. To herself Pollyanna always called him “ the 
Man,” no matter if she met a dozen other men the 
same day. 

The Man often wore a long black coat and a high 


74 


Pollyanna 


■■ ---- ■' ■ •~ r ™ ==== s 

silk hat — two things that the “just men” never 
wore. His face was clean shaven and rather pale, 
and his hair, showing below his hat, was somewhat 
gray. He walked erect, and rather rapidly, and he 
was always alone, which made Pollyanna vaguely 
sorry for him. Perhaps it was because of this that 
she one day spoke to him. 

“ How do you do, sir? Isn’t this a nice day? ” 
she called cheerily, as she approached him. 

The man threw a hurried glance about him, then 
stopped uncertainly. 

“ Did you speak — to me? ” he asked in a sharp 
voice. 

“ Yes, sir,” beamed Pollyanna. " I say, it’s a nice 
day, isn’t it? ” 

“ Eh ? Oh ! Humph ! ” he grunted ; and strode 
on again. 

Pollyanna laughed. He was such a funny man, 
she thought. 

The next day she saw him again. 

“ ’Tisn’t quite so nice as yesterday, but it’s pretty 
nice,” she called out cheerfully. 

“ Eh ? Oh ! Humph ! ” grunted the man as be- 
fore; and once again Pollyanna laughed happily. 

When for the third time Pollyanna accosted him 
in much the same manner, the man stopped abruptly. 


PoIIyanna Pays a Visit 75 


“ See here, child, who are you, and why are you 
speaking to me every day? ” 

“ I’m PoIIyanna Whittier, and I thought you 
looked lonesome. I’m so glad you stopped. Now 
we’re introduced — only I don’t know your name 
yet.” 

“ Well, of all the — 99 The man did not finish 
his sentence, but strode on faster than ever. 

PoIIyanna looked after him with a disappointed 
droop to her usually smiling lips. 

“ Maybe he didn’t understand — but that was 
only half an introduction. I don’t know his name, 
yet,” she murmured, as she proceeded on her way. 

PoIIyanna was carrying calf’s-foot jelly to Mrs. 
Snow to-day. Miss Polly Harrington always sent 
something to Mrs. Snow once a week. She said 
she thought that it was her duty, inasmuch as Mrs. 
Snow was poor, sick, and a member of her church 

— it was the duty of all the church members to 
look out for her, of course. Miss Polly did her 
duty by Mrs. Snow usually on Thursday afternoons 

— not personally, but through Nancy. To-day 
PoIIyanna had begged the privilege, and Nancy had 
promptly given it to her in accordance with Miss 
Polly’s orders. 

“ And it’s glad that I am ter get rid of it,” Nancy 


76 


Pollyanna 


had declared in private afterwards to Pollyanna; 
“ though it’s a shame ter be tuckin’ the job off on 
ter you, poor lamb, so it is, it is ! ” 

“ But I’d love to do it, Nancy.” 

“ Well, you won’t — after you’ve done it once,” 
predicted Nancy, sourly. 

“ Why not?” 

“ Because nobody does. If folks wa’n’t sorry for 
her there wouldn’t a soul go near her from mornin’ 
till night, she’s that cantankerous. All is, I pity 
her daughter what has ter take care of her.” 

“ But, why, Nancy? ” 

Nancy shrugged her shoulders. 

“ Well, in plain words, it’s just that nothin’ what 
ever has happened, has happened right in Mis’ 
Snow’s eyes. Even the days of the week ain’t run 
ter her mind. If it’s Monday she’s bound ter say 
she wished ’twas Sunday; and if you take her jelly 
you’re pretty sure ter hear she wanted chicken — 
but if you did bring her chicken, she’d be jest hank- 
erin’ for lamb broth ! ” 

“ Why, what a funny woman,” laughed Polly- 
anna. “ I think I shall like to go to see her. She 
must be so surprising and — and different. I love 
different folks.” 

“ Humph! Well, Mis’ Snow’s 9 all 


Pollyanna Pays a Visit 


77 


right — I hope, for the sake of the rest of us ! ” 
Nancy had finished grimly. 

Pollyanna was thinking of these remarks to-day 
as she turned in at the gate of the shabby little cot- 
tage. Her eyes were quite sparkling, indeed, at the 
prospect of meeting this “ different ” Mrs. Snow. 

A pale-faced, tired-looking young girl answered 
her knock at the door. 

“ How d*o you do?” began Pollyanna politely. 
“ Pm from Miss Polly Harrington, and I’d like to 
see Mrs. Snow, please.” 

“ Well, if you would, you’re the first one that 
ever ‘ liked ’ to see her,” muttered the girl under 
her breath; but Pollyanna did not hear this. The 
girl had turned and was leading the way through 
the hall to a door at the end of it. 

In the sick-room, after the girl had ushered her 
in and closed the door, Pollyanna blinked a little 
before she could accustom her eyes to the gloom. 
Then she saw, dimly outlined, a woman half-sitting 
up in the bed across the room. Pollyanna advanced 
at once. 

“ How do you do, Mrs. Snow ? Aunt Polly says 
she hopes you are comfortable to-day, and she’s 
sent you some calf’s-foot jelly.” 

“Dear me! Jelly?” murmured a fretful voice. 


78 


Pollyanna 


- ■ - ■ ■■■ - . " — ; 

“ Of course I’m very much obliged, but I was 
hoping ’twould be lamb broth to-day.” 

Pollyanna frowned a little. 

“ Why, I thought it was chicken you wanted when 
folks brought you jelly,” she said. 

“ What ? ” The sick woman turned sharply. 

“ Why, nothing, much,” apologized Pollyanna, 
hurriedly; “and of course it doesn’t really make 
any difference. It’s only that Nancy said it was 
chicken you wanted when we brought jelly, and 
lamb broth when we brought chicken — but maybe 
’twas the other way, and Nancy forgot.” 

The sick woman pulled herself up till she sat 
erect in the bed — a most unusual thing for her to 
do, though Pollyanna did not know this. 

“Well, Miss Impertinence, who are you?” she 
demanded. 

Pollyanna laughed gleefully. 

“ Oh. that isn’t my name, Mrs. Snow — and I’m 
so glad ’tisn’t, too! That would be worse than 
‘ Hephzibah,’ wouldn’t it ? I’m Pollyanna Whittier, 
Miss Polly Harrington’s niece, and I’ve come to 
live with her. That’s why I’m here with the jelly 
this morning.” 

All through the first part of this sentence, the 
sick woman had sat interestedly erect; but at the 


Polly anna Pays a Visit 79 


reference to the jelly she fell back on her pillow 
listlessly. 

“ Very well; thank you. Your aunt is very kind, 
of course, but my appetite isn’t very good this morn- 
ing, and I was wanting lamb — ” She stopped 
suddenly, then went on with an abrupt change of 
subject. “ I never slept a wink last night — not a 
wink!” 

“ O dear, I wish I didn’t,” sighed Pollyanna, 
placing the jelly on the little stand and seating her- 
self comfortably in the nearest chair. “ You lose 
such a lot of time just sleeping! Don’t you think 
so? ” 

“ Lose time — sleeping ! ” exclaimed the sick 
woman. 

“ Yes, when you might be just living, you know. 
It seems such a pity we can’t live nights, too.” 

Once again the woman pulled herself erect in her 
bed. 

“Well, if you ain’t the amazing young one!” 
she cried. “ Here ! do you go to that window and 
pull up the curtain,” she directed. “ I should like 
to know what you look like ! ” 

Pollyanna rose to her feet, but she laughed a 
little ruefully. 

“ O dear ! then you’ll see my freckles, won’t 


80 


Pollyanna 


you ? ” she sighed, as she went to the window ; 
“ — and just when I was being so glad it was dark 
and you couldn’t see ’em. There! Now you can 
— oh ! ” she broke off excitedly, as she turned back 
to the bed; “ I’m so glad you wanted to see me, 
because now I can see you! They didn’t tell me 
you were so pretty ! ” 

“ Me ! — pretty ! ” scoffed the woman, bitterly. 

“ Why, yes. Didn’t you know it? ” cried Polly- 
anna. 

“ Well, no, I didn’t,” retorted Mrs. Snow, dryly. 
Mrs. Snow had lived forty years, and for fifteen 
of those years she had been too busy wishing things 
were different to find much time to enjoy things as 
they were. 

“ Oh, but your eyes are so big and dark, and your 
hair’s all dark, too, and curly,” cooed Pollyanna. 
“ I love black curls. (That’s one of the things I’m 
going to have when I get to Heaven.) And you’ve 
got two little red spots in your cheeks. Why, Mrs. 
Snow, you are pretty! I should think you’d know 
it when you looked at yourself in the glass.” 

“ The glass ! ” snapped the sick woman, falling 
back on her pillow. “ Yes, well, I hain’t done much 
prinkin’ before the mirror these days — and you 
wouldn’t, if you was flat on your back as I am ! ” 


Pollyanna Pays a Visit 


81 


“ Why, no, of course not, ,, agreed Pollyanna, 
sympathetically. “ But wait — just let me show 
you,” she exclaimed, skipping over to the bureau 
and picking up a small hand-glass. 

On the way back to the bed she stopped, eyeing 
the sick woman with a critical gaze. 

“ I reckon maybe, if you don’t mind, I’d like to 
fix your hair just a little before I let you see it,” 
she proposed. “ May I fix your hair, please? ” 

“ Why, I — suppose so, if you want to,” per- 
mitted Mrs. Snow, grudgingly; “but ’twon’t stay, 
you know.” 

“ Oh, thank you. I love to fix people’s hair,” 
exulted Pollyanna, carefully laying down the hand- 
glass and reaching for a comb. “ I sha’n’t do much 
to-day, of course — I’m in such a hurry for you to 
see how pretty you are; but some day I’m going 
to take it all down and have a perfectly lovely time 
with it,” she cried, touching with soft fingers the 
waving hair above the sick woman’s forehead. 

For five minutes Pollyanna worked swiftly, 
deftly, combing a refractory curl into fluffiness, 
perking up a drooping ruffle at the neck, or shaking 
a pillow into plumpness so that the head might have 
a better pose. Meanwhile the sick woman, frown- 
ing prodigiously, and openly scoffing at the whole 


82 


Pollyanna 


procedure, was, in spite of herself, beginning to 
tingle with a feeling perilously near to excite- 
ment. 

“ There ! ” panted Pollyanna, hastily plucking a 
pink from a vase near by and tucking it into the 
dark hair where it would give the best effect. 
f ‘ Now I reckon we’re ready to be looked at ! ” And 
she held out the mirror in triumph. 

“ Humph ! ” grunted the sick woman, eyeing her 
reflection severely. “ I like red pinks better than 
pink ones; but then, it’ll fade, anyhow, before 
night, so what’s the difference ! ” 

“ But I should think you’d be glad they did fade,” 
laughed Pollyanna, “ ’cause then you can have the 
fun of getting some more. I just love your hair 
fluffed out like that,” she finished with a satisfied 
gaze. “ Don’t you ? ” 

“ Hm-m ; maybe. Still — ’twon’t last, with me 
tossing back and forth on the pillow as I do.” 

“ Of course not — and I’m glad, too,” nodded 
Pollyanna, cheerfully, “ because then I can fix it 
again. Anyhow, I should think you'd be glad it’s 
black — black shows up so much nicer on a pillow 
than yellow hair like mine does.” 

“ Maybe ; but I never did set much store by black 
hair — shows gray too soon,” retorted Mrs. Snow. 



SHE HELD OUT THE MIRROR IN TRIUMPH 



Pollyanna Pays a Visit 


83 


She spoke fretfully, but she still held the mirror 
before her face. 

“ Oh, I love black hair ! I should be so glad if 
I only had it,” sighed Pollyanna. 

Mrs. Snow dropped the mirror and turned irri- 
tably. 

“Well, you wouldn’t! — not if you were me. 
You wouldn’t be glad for black hair nor anything 
else — if you had to lie here all day as I do ! ” 

Pollyanna bent her brows in a thoughtful frown. 

“ Why, ’twould be kind of hard — to do it then, 
wouldn’t it?” she mused aloud. 

“ Do what ? ” 

“ Be glad about things.” 

“ Be glad about things — when you’re sick in 
bed all your days? Well, I should say it would,” 
retorted Mrs. Snow. “ If you don’t think so, just 
tell me something to be glad about ; that’s all ! ” 

To Mrs. Snow’s unbounded amazement, Polly- 
anna sprang to her feet and clapped her hands. 

“ Oh, goody ! That’ll be a hard one — won’t it ? 
I’ve got to go, now, but I’ll think and think all the 
way home; and maybe the next time I come I can 
tell it to you. Good-by. I’ve had a lovely time! 
Good-by,” she called again, as she tripped through 
the doorway. 


84 


Pollyanna 


“Well, I never! Now, what does she mean by 
that? ” ejaculated Mrs. Snow, staring after her vis- 
itor. By and by she turned her head and picked 
up the mirror, eyeing her reflection critically. 

“ That little thing has got a knack with hair — 
and no mistake,’’ she muttered under her breath. 
“ I declare, I didn’t know it could look so pretty. 
But then, what’s the use?” she sighed, dropping 
the little glass into the bedclothes, and rolling her 
head on the pillow fretfully. 

A little later, when Milly, Mrs. Snow’s daughter, 
came in, the mirror still lay among the bedclothes 

— though it had been carefully hidden from 
sight. 

“ Why, mother — the curtain is up ! ” cried Milly, 
dividing her amazed stare between the window and 
the pink in her mother’s hair. 

“ Well, what if it is? ” snapped the sick woman. 

I needn’t stay in the dark all my life, if I am sick, 
need I?” 

“ Why, n-no, of course not,” rejoined Milly, in 
hasty conciliation, as she reached for the medicine 
bottle. “ It’s only — well, you know very well that 
I've tried to get you to have a lighter room for ages 

— and you wouldn’t.” 

There was no reply to this. Mrs. Snow was pick- 


Pollyanna Pays a Visit 85 


in g at the lace on her nightgown. At last she spoke 
fretfully. 

“ I should think somebody might give me a new 
nightdress — instead of lamb broth, for a change ! ” 

“ Why — mother ! ” 

No wonder Milly quite gasped aloud with bewil- 
derment. In the drawer behind her at that moment 
lay two new nightdresses that Milly for months had 
been vainly urging her mother to wear. 


CHAPTER IX 


WHICH TELLS OF THE MAN 

It rained the next time Pollyanna saw the Man. 
She greeted him, however, with a bright smile. 

“ It isn’t so nice to-day, is it ? ” she called blithe- 
somely. “ I’m glad it doesn’t rain always, any- 
how ! ” 

The man did not even grunt this time, nor turn 
his head. Pollyanna decided that of course he did 
not hear her. The next time, therefore (which 
happened to be the following day), she spoke up 
louder. She thought it particularly necessary to 
do this, anyway, for the Man was striding along, 
his hands behind his back, and his eyes on the 
ground — which seemed, to Pollyanna, preposterous 
in the face of the glorious sunshine and the freshly- 
washed morning air: Pollyanna, as a special treat, 
was on a morning errand to-day. 

“ How do you do ? ” she chirped. “ I’m so glad 
it isn’t yesterday, aren’t you ? ” 

86 


Which Tells of the Man 


87 


The man stopped abruptly. There was an angry 
scowl on his face. 

“ See here, little girl, we might just as well settle 
this thing right now, once for all,” he began testily. 
“ I’ve got something besides the weather to think 
of. I don’t know whether the sun shines or not.” 

Pollyanna beamed joyously. 

“No, sir; I thought you didn’t. That’s why I 
told you.” 

“Yes; well— Eh? What?” he broke off 
sharply, in sudden understanding of her words. 

“ I say, that’s why I told you — so you would 
notice it, you know — that the sun shines, and all 
that. I knew you’d be glad it did if you only 
stopped to think of it — and you didn’t look a bit 
as if you were thinking of it ! ” 

“Well, of all the — ” ejaculated the man, with 
an oddly impotent gesture. He started forward 
again, but after the second step he turned back, still 
frowning. 

“ See here, why don’t you find some one your 
own age to talk to ? ” 

“ I’d like to, sir, but there aren’t any ’round here, 
Nancy says. Still, I don’t mind so very much. I 
like old folks just as well, maybe better, sometimes 
— being used to the Ladies’ Aid, so.” 


88 


Pollyanna 


“ Humph ! The Ladies’ Aid, indeed ! Is that 
what you took me for ? ” The man’s lips were 
threatening to smile, but the scowl above them was 
still trying to hold them grimly stern. 

Pollyanna laughed gleefully. 

“ Oh, no, sir. You don’t look a mite like a La- 
dies’ Aider — not but that you’re just as good, of 
course — maybe better,” she added in hurried po- 
liteness. “ You see, I’m sure you’re much nicer 
than you look ! ” 

The man made a queer noise in his throat. 

“ Well, of all the — ” he ejaculated again, as he 
turned and strode on as before. 

The next time Pollyanna met the Man, his eyes 
were gazing straight into hers, with a quizzical di- 
rectness that made his face look really pleasant, 
Pollyanna thought. 

“ Good afternoon,” he greeted her a little stiffly. 
“ Perhaps I’d better say right away that I know the 
sun is shining to-day.” 

“ But you don’t have to tell me,” nodded Polly- 
anna, brightly. “ I knew you knew it just as soon 
as I saw you.” 

“ Oh, you did, did you ? ” 

“ Yes, sir ; I saw it in your eyes, you know, and 
in your smile.” 


Which Tells of the Man 


“ Humph ! ” grunted the man, as he passed on. 

The Man always spoke to Pollyanna after this, 
and frequently he spoke first, though usually he said 
little but “ good afternoon.” Even that, however, 
was a great surprise to Nancy, who chanced to be 
with Pollyanna one day when the greeting was 
given. 

“ Sakes alive, Miss Pollyanna,” she gasped, “ did 
that man speak to you f ” 

“ Why, yes, he always does — now," smiled 
Pollyanna. 

He always does ’ ! Goodness ! Do you know 
who — he — is ? ” demanded Nancy. 

Pollyanna frowned and shook her head. 

“ I reckon he forgot to tell me one day. You 
see, I did my part of the introducing, but he 
didn’t.” 

Nancy’s eyes widened. 

“ But he never speaks ter anybody, child — he 
hain’t for years, I guess, except when he just has 
to, for business, and all that. He’s John Pendleton. 
He lives all by himself in the big house on Pendle- 
ton Hill. He won’t even have any one ’round ter 
cook for him — comes down ter the hotel for his 
meals three times a day. I know Sally Miner, who 
waits on him, and she says he hardly opens his head 


Pollyanna 


00 


enough ter tell what he wants ter eat. She has ter 
guess it more’n half the time — only it’ll be some- 
thin' cheap! She knows that without no tellin’.” 

Pollyanna nodded sympathetically. 

“ I know. You have to look for cheap things 
when you're poor. Father and I took meals out a 
lot. We had beans and fish balls most generally. 
We used to say how glad we were we liked beans 
— that is, we said it specially when we were looking 
at the roast turkey place, you know, that was sixty 
cents. Does Mr. Pendleton like beans ? " 

“ Like ’em ! What if he does — or don't? Why, 
Miss Pollyanna, he ain’t poor. He’s got loads of 
money, John Pendleton has — from his father. 
There ain’t nobody in town as rich as he is. He 
could eat dollar bills, if he wanted to — and not 
know it." 

Pollyanna giggled. 

“ As if anybody could eat dollar bills and not 
know it, Nancy, when they come to try to chew 
'em!" 

“ Ho ! I mean he’s rich enough ter do it," 
shrugged Nancy. “ He ain’t spendin’ his money, 
that's all. He’s a-savin’ of it." 

“ Oh, for the heathen," surmised Pollyanna. 
“ How perfectly splendid ! That’s denying your- 


Which Tells of the Man 


91 


self and taking up your cross. I know; father told 
me. 

Nancy’s lips parted abruptly, as if there were 
angry words all ready to come; but her eyes, rest- 
ing on Pollyanna’s jubilantly trustful face, saw 
something that prevented the words being spoken. 

“ Humph ! ” she vouchsafed. Then, showing her 
old-time interest, she went on : “ But, say, it is 
queer, his speakin’ to you, honestly, Miss Pollyanna. 
He don’t speak ter no one; and he lives all alone 
in a great big lovely house all full of jest grand 
things, they say. Some says he’s crazy, and some 
jest cross; and some says he’s got a skeleton in his 
closet.” 

“ Oh, Nancy!” shuddered Pollyanna. “ How 
can he keep such a dreadful thing? I should think 
he’d throw it away ! ” 

Nancy chuckled. That Pollyanna had taken the 
skeleton literally instead of figuratively, she knew 
very well; but, perversely, she refrained from cor- 
recting the mistake. 

“ And everybody says he’s mysterious,” she went 
on. “ Some years he jest travels, week in and week 
out, and it’s always in heathen countries — Egypt 
and Asia and the Desert of Sarah, you know.” 

“ Oh, a missionary, ” nodded Pollyanna. 


Pollyanna 


Nancy laughed oddly. 

“ Well, I didn’t say that, Miss Pollyanna. When 
he comes back he writes books — queer, odd books, 
they say, about some gimcrack he’s found in them 
heathen countries. But he don’t never seem ter 
want ter spend no money here — leastways, not for 
jest livin’.” 

“ Of course not — if he’s saving it for the 
heathen,” declared Pollyanna. “ But he is a funny 
man, and he’s different, too, just like Mrs. Snow, 
only he’s a different different.” 

“ Well, I guess he is — rather,” chuckled Nancy. 

“ I’m gladder’n ever now, anyhow, that he speaks 
to me,” sighed Pollyanna contentedly. 


CHAPTER X 


A SURPRISE FOR MRS. SNOW 

The next time Pollyanna went to see Mrs. Snow, 
she found that lady, as at first, in a darkened room. 

“ It’s the little girl from Miss Polly’s, mother,” 
announced Milly, in a tired manner; then Polly- 
anna found herself alone with the invalid. 

“ Oh, it’s you, is it? ” asked a fretful voice from 
the bed. “ I remember you. Anybody’d remember 
you, I guess, if they saw you once. I wish you had 
come yesterday. I wanted you yesterday.” 

“ Did you? Well, I’m glad ’tisn’t any farther 
away from yesterday than to-day is, then,” laughed 
Pollyanna, advancing cheerily into the room, and 
setting her basket carefully down on a chair. “ My ! 
but aren’t you dark here, though? I can’t see you 
a bit,” she cried, unhesitatingly crossing to the win- 
dow and pulling up the shade. “ I want to see if 
you’ve fixed your hair like I did — oh, you haven’t ! 
But, never mind; I’m glad you haven’t, after ah, 
93 


Pollyanna 


'cause maybe you’ll let me do it — later. But now 
I want you to see what I’ve brought you.” 

The woman stirred restlessly. 

“ Just as if how it looks would make any differ- 
ence in how it tastes,” she scoffed — but she turned 
her eyes toward the basket. “ Well, what is it?” 

“ Guess ! What do you want ? ” Pollyanna had 
skipped back to the basket. Her face was alight. 

The sick woman frowned. 

“ Why, I don’t want anything, as I know of,” 
she sighed. “ After all, they all taste alike ! ” 

Pollyanna chuckled. 

“This won’t. Guess! If you did want some- 
thing, what would it be ? ” 

The woman hesitated. She did not realize it 
herself, but she had so long been accustomed to 
wanting what she did not have, that to state off- 
hand what she did want seemed impossible — until 
she knew what she had. Obviously, however, she 
must say something. This extraordinary child was 
waiting. 

“ Well, of course, there’s lamb broth — ” 

“ I’ve got it ! ” crowed Pollyanna. 

“ But that’s what I didn't want,” sighed the sick 
woman, sure now of what her stomach craved. “ It 
was chicken I wanted.” 


A Surprise for Mrs. Snow 


95 


ff 1 =s ===== ==a=== / 

“ Oh, I’ve got that, too,” chuckled Polly anna. 

The woman turned in amazement. 

“ Both of them? ” she demanded. 

‘‘Yes — and calf’s-foot jelly,” triumphed Polly- 
anna. “ I was just bound you should have what 
you wanted for once; so Nancy and I fixed it. Oh, 
of course, there’s only a little of each — but there’s 
some of all of ’em! I’m so glad you did want 
chicken,” she went on contentedly, as she lifted the 
three little bowls from her basket. “ You see, I got 
to thinking on the way here — what if you should 
say tripe, or onions, or something like that, that I 
didn’t have! Wouldn’t it have been a shame — 
when I’d tried so hard ? ” she laughed merrily. 

There was no reply. The sick woman seemed to 
be trying — mentally — to find something she had 
lost. 

“ There ! I’m to leave them all,” announced Polly- 
anna, as she arranged the three bowls in a row on 
the table. “ Like enough it’ll be lamb broth you 
want to-morrow. How do you do to-day?” she 
finished in polite inquiry. 

“ Very poorly, thank you,” murmured Mrs. 
Snow, falling back into her usual listless attitude. 
“ I lost my nap this morning. Nellie Higgins next 
door has begun music lessons, and her practising 


98 


Pollyanna 


3 


drives me nearly wild. She was at it all the morn- 
ing — every minute ! I’m sure, I don’t know what 
I shall do!” 

Polly nodded sympathetically. 

“ I know. It is awful ! Mrs. White had it once 
- — one of my Ladies’ Aiders, you know. She had 
rheumatic fever, too, at the same time, so she 
couldn’t thrash ’round. She said ’twould have been 
easier if she could have. Can you ? ” 

“ Can I — what?” 

“ Thrash ’round — move, you know, so as to 
change your position when the music gets too hard 
to stand.” 

Mrs. Snow stared a little. 

“ Why, of course I can move — anywhere — in 
bed,” she rejoined a little irritably. 

“ Well, you can be glad of that, then, anyhow* 
can’t you ? ” nodded Pollyanna. “ Mrs. White 
couldn’t. You can’t thrash when you have rheu- 
matic fever — though you want to something awful, 
Mrs. White says. She told me afterwards she reck- 
oned she’d have gone raving crazy if it hadn’t been 
for Mr. White’s sister’s ears — being deaf, so.” 

“ Sister’s — ears! What do you mean? ” 

Pollyanna laughed. 

“ Well, I reckon I didn’t tell it all, and I forgo/ 


A Surprise for Mrs. Snow 97 


you didn’t know Mrs. White. You see, Miss White 
was deaf — awfully deaf; and she came to visit 
’em and to help take care of Mrs. White and the 
house. Well, they had such an awful time making 
her understand anything, that after that, every time 
the piano commenced to play across the street, Mrs. 
White felt so glad she could hear it, that she didn’t 
mind so much that she did hear it, ’cause she 
couldn’t help thinking how awful ’twould be if she 
was deaf and couldn’t hear anything, like her hus- 
band’s sister. You see, she was playing the game, 
too. I’d told her about it.” 

“ The — game?” 

Pollyanna clapped her hands. 

“ There ! I ’most forgot ; but I’ve thought it up, 
Mrs. Snow — what you can be glad about.” 

“ Glad about ! What do you mean ? ” 

“ Why, I told you I would. Don’t you remem- 
ber? You asked me to tell you something to be 
glad about — glad, you know, even though you did 
have to lie here abed all day.” 

“Oh!” scoffed the woman. “That? Yes, I 
remember that; but I didn’t suppose you were in 
earnest any more than I was.” 

“ Oh, yes, I was,” nodded Pollyanna, trium- 
phantly; “ and I found it, too. But ’twas hard. 


Pollyanna 


It’s all the more fun, though, always, when ’tis hard. 
And I will own up, honest to true, that I couldn’t 
think of anything for a while. Then I got it.” 

“Did you, really? Well, what is it?” Mrs. 
Snow’s voice was sarcastically polite. 

Pollyanna drew a long breath. 

“ I thought — how glad you could be — that 
other folks weren’t like you — all sick in bed like 
this, you know,” she announced impressively. 

Mrs. Snow stared. Her eyes were angry. 

“ Well, really! ” she ejaculated then, in not quite 
an agreeable tone of voice. 

“ And now I’ll tell you the game,” proposed 
Pollyanna, blithely confident. “ It’ll be just lovely 
for you to play — it’ll be so hard. And there’s so 
much more fun when it is hard! You see, it’s like 
this.” And she began to tell of the missionary bar- 
rel, the crutches, and the doll that did not come. 

The story was just finished when Milly appeared 
at the door. 

“ Your aunt is wanting you, Miss Pollyanna,” 
she said with dreary listlessness. “ She telephoned 
down to the Harlows’ across the way. She says 
you’re to hurry — that you’ve got some practising 
to make up before dark.” 

Pollyanna rose reluctantly. 


A Surprise for Mrs. Snow 


99 


“ All right/’ she sighed. “ I’ll hurry.” Sud- 
denly she laughed. “ I suppose I ought to be 
glad I’ve got legs to hurry with, hadn’t I, Mrs., 
Snow? ” 

There was no answer. Mrs. Snow’s eyes were 
closed. But Milly, whose eyes were wide open with 
surprise, saw that there were tears on the wasted 
cheeks. 

“ Good-by,” flung Pollyanna over her shoulder, 
as she reached the door. “ I’m awfully sorry about 
the hair — I wanted to do it. But maybe I can next 
time ! ” 

One by one the July days passed. To Pollyanna, 
they were happy days, indeed. She often told her 
aunt, joyously, how very happy they were. Where- 
upon her aunt would usually reply, wearily : 

“ Very well, Pollyanna. I am gratified, of course, 
that they are happy; but I trust that they are prof- 
itable, as well — otherwise I should have failed sig- 
nally in my duty.” 

Generally Pollyanna would answer this with a 
hug and a kiss — a proceeding that was still always 
most disconcerting to Miss Polly; but one day she 
spoke. It was during the sewing hour. 

“ Do you mean that it wouldn’t be enough then, 


100 


Pollyanna 


Aunt Polly, that they should be just happy days? ” 
she asked wistfully. 

“ That is what I mean, Pollyanna.” 

“ They must be pro-fi-ta-ble as well ? ” 

“ Certainly. ,, 

“ What is being pro-fi-ta-ble? ” 

“ Why, it — it’s just being profitable — having 
profit, something to show for it, Pollyanna. What 
an extraordinary child you are ! ” 

“ Then just being glad isn’t pro-fi-ta-ble? ” ques- 
tioned Pollyanna, a little anxiously. 

“ Certainly not.” 

“ O dear ! Then you wouldn’t like it, of course. 
I’m afraid, now, you won’t ever play the game, 
Aunt Polly.” 

“ Game ? What game ? ” 

“ Why, that father — ” Pollyanna clapped her 
hand to her lips. “ N-nothing,” she stammered. 

Miss Polly frowned. 

“ That will do for this morning, Pollyanna,” she 
said tersely. And the sewing lesson was over. 

It was that afternoon that Pollyanna, coming 
down from her attic room, met her aunt on the 
stairway. 

“ Why, Aunt Polly, how perfectly lovely ! ” she 
cried. “ You we**e coming up to see me! Come 


A Surprise for Mrs. Snow 10* 


right in. I love company,” she finished, scampering 
up the stairs and throwing her door wide open. 

Now Miss Polly had not been intending to call 
on her niece. She had been planning to look for 
a certain white wool shawl in the cedar chest near 
the east window. But to her unbounded surprise 
now, she found herself, not in the main attic before 
the cedar chest, but in Pollyanna’s little room sitting 
in one of the straight-backed chairs — so many, 
many times since Pollyanna came, Miss Polly had 
found herself like this, doing some utterly unex- 
pected, surprising thing, quite unlike the thing she 
had set out to do ! 

“ I love company,” said Pollyanna, again, flitting 
about as if she were dispensing the hospitality of a 
palace ; “ specially since I’ve had this room, all 
mine, you know. Oh, of course, I had a room, 
always, but ’twas a hired room, and hired rooms 
aren’t half as nice as owned ones, are they? And 
bf course I do own this one, don’t I ? ” 

“ Why, y-yes, Pollyanna,” murmured Miss Polly, 
vaguely wondering why she did not get up at once 
^and go to look for that shawl. 

“ And of course now I just love this room, even 
if it hasn’t got the carpets and curtains and pictures 
that I’d been want — ” With a painful blush Follv- 


m 


Pollyanna 


anna stopped short. She was plunging into an en- 
tirely different sentence when her aunt interrupted 
her sharply. 

“ What’s that, Pollyanna ? ” 

u N-nothing, Aunt Polly, truly. I didn’t mean 
to say it.” 

“ Probably not,” returned Miss Polly, coldly; 
“ but you did say it, so suppose we have the rest 
of it.” 

“ But it wasn’t anything only that I’d been kind 
of planning on pretty carpets and lace curtains and 
things, you know. But, of course — ” 

“ Planning on them ! ” interrupted Miss Polly, 
sharply. 

Pollyanna blushed still more painfully. 

“ I ought not to have, of course, Aunt Polly,” 
she apologized. “ It was only because I’d always 
wanted them and hadn’t had them, I suppose. Oh, 
we’d had two rugs in the barrels, but they were 
little, you know, and one had ink spots, and the 
other holes; and there never were only those two 
pictures; the one fath — I mean the good one we 
sold, and the bad one that broke. Of course if it 
hadn’t been for all that I shouldn’t have wanted 
them, so — pretty things, I mean ; and I shouldn’t 
have got to planning all through the hall that first 


A Surprise for Mrs. Snow 


105 


day how pretty mine would be here, and — and — 
But, truly, Aunt Polly, it wasn’t but just a minute 
— I mean, a few minutes — before I was being 
glad that the bureau didn't have a looking-glass, 
because it didn’t show my freckles ; and there 
couldrA be a nicer picture than the one out my 
window there; and you’ve been so good to me, 
that — ” 

Miss Polly rose suddenly to her feet. Her face 
was very red. 

“ That will do, Pollyanna,” she said stiffly. 
“ You have said quite enough, I’m sure.” The next 
minute she had swept down the stairs — and not 
until she reached the first floor did it suddenly occur 
to her that she had gone up into the attic to find a 
white wool shawl in the cedar chest near the east 
window. 

Less than twenty-four hours later, Miss Polly 
said to Nancy, crisply : 

“ Nancy, you may move Miss Pollyanna’s things 
down-stairs this morning to the room directly be- 
neath. I have decided to have my niece sleep there 
for the present.” 

“ Yes, ma’am,” said Nancy aloud. 

“ O glory! ” said Nancy to herself. 

To Pollyanna, a minute later, she cried joyously: 


104 


Pollyanna 


“ And won’t ye jest be listenin’ ter this, Miss 
Pollyanna. You’re ter sleep down-stairs in the 
room straight under this. You are — you are! ” 

Pollyanna actually grew white. 

“ You mean — why, Nancy, not really — really 
and truly? ” 

“ I guess you’ll think it’s really and truly,” proph- 
esied Nancy, exultingly, nodding her head to Polly- 
anna over the armful of dresses she had taken from 
the closet. “ I’m told ter take down yer things, 
and I’m goin’ ter take ’em, too, ’fore she gets a 
chance ter change her mind.” 

Pollyanna did not stop to hear the end of this 
sentence. At the imminent risk of being dashed 
headlong, she was flying down-stairs, two steps at 
a time. 

Bang went two doors and a chair before Polly- 
anna at last reached her goal — Aunt Polly. 

“ Oh, Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, did you mean it, 
really ? Why, that room’s got everything — the car- 
pet and curtains and three pictures, besides the one 
outdoors, too, ’cause the windows look the same 
way. Oh, Aunt Polly ! ” 

“ Very well, Pollyanna. I am gratified that you 
like the change, of course; but if you think so 
much of all those things, I trust you will take proper 


A Surprise for Mrs. Snow 


105 


care of them; that’s all. Pollyanna, please pick up 
that chair; and you have banged two doors in the 
last half-minute.” Miss Polly spoke sternly, all the 
more sternly because, for some inexplicable reason, 
she felt inclined to cry — and Miss Polly was not 
used to feeling inclined to cry. 

Pollyanna picked up the chair. 

“Yes’m; I know I banged ’em — those doors,” 
she admitted cheerfully. “ You see I’d just found 
out about the room, and I reckon you’d have banged 
doors if — ” Pollyanna stopped short and eyed her 
aunt with new interest. “ Aunt Polly, did you ever 
bang doors ? ” 

“ I hope — not, Pollyanna ! ” Miss Polly’s voice 
was properly shocked. 

“ Why, Aunt Polly, what a shame ! ” Polly- 
anna’s face expressed only concerned sympathy. 

“ A shame!” repeated Aunt Polly, too dazed to 
say more. 

“ Why, yes. You see, if you’d felt like banging 
doors you’d have banged ’em, of course; and if 
you didn’t, that must have meant that you weren’t 
ever glad over anything — or you would have 
banged ’em. You couldn’t have helped it. And 
I’m so sorry you weren’t ever glad over anything! ” 

“ Pollyanna ! ” gasped the lady ; but Pollyanna 


106 


Pollyanna 


was gone, and only the distant bang of the attic- 
stairway door answered for her. Pollyanna had 
gone to help Nancy bring down “ her things.” 

Miss Polly, in the sitting room, felt vaguely dis- 
turbed ; — but then, of course she had been glad — - 
over some things t 


CHAPTER XI 


INTRODUCING JIMMY 

August came. August brought several sur- 
prises and some changes — none of which, however, 
were really a surprise to Nancy. Nancy, since 
Pollyanna’s arrival, had come to look for surprises 
and changes. 

First there was the kitten. 

Pollyanna found the kitten mewing pitifully some 
distance down the road. When systematic ques- 
tioning of the neighbors failed to find any one who 
claimed it, Pollyanna brought it home at once, as 
a matter of course. 

“ And I was glad I didn’t find any one who 
owned it, too,” she told her aunt in happy confi- 
dence ; “ ’cause I wanted to bring it home all the 
time. I love kitties. I knew you’d be glad to let it 
live here.” 

Miss Polly looked at the forlorn little gray bunch 
of neglected misery in Pollyanna’s arms, and shiv- 
107 


108 


Pollyanna 


ered: Miss Polly did not care for cats — not even 
pretty, healthy, clean ones. 

“ Ugh ! Pollyanna ! What a dirty little beast ! 
And it’s sick, Pm sure, and all mangy and fleay.” 

“ I know it, poor little thing,” crooned Pollyanna, 
tenderly, looking into the little creature’s frightened 
eyes. “ And it’s all trembly, too, it’s so scared. 
You see it doesn’t know, yet, that we’re going to 
keep it, of course.” 

“ No — nor anybody else,” retorted Miss Polly, 
with meaning emphasis. 

“ Oh, yes, they do,” nodded Pollyanna, entirely 
misunderstanding her aunt’s words. “ I told every- 
body we should keep it, if I didn’t find where it be- 
longed. I knew you’d be glad to have it — poor 
little lonesome thing ! ” 

Miss Polly opened her lips and tried to speak; 
but in vain. The curious helpless feeling that had 
been hers so often since Pollyanna’s arrival, had 
her now fast in its grip. 

“ Of course I knew,” hurried on Pollyanna, 
gratefully, “ that you wouldn’t let a dear little lone- 
some kitty go hunting for a home when you’d just 
taken me in; and I said so to Mrs. Ford when she 
asked if you’d let me keep it. Why, / had the 
Ladies’ Aid, you know, and kitty didn’t have any- 


Introducing Jimmy 


109 


body. I knew you’d feel that way,” she nodded 
happily, as she ran from the room. 

“ But, Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Miss 
Polly. “ I don’t — ” But Pollyanna was already 
halfway to the kitchen, calling : 

“ Nancy, Nancy, just see this dear little kitty 
that Aunt Polly is going to bring up along with 
me ! ” And Aunt Polly, in the sitting room — who 
abhorred cats — fell back in her chair with a gasp 
of dismay, powerless to remonstrate. 

The next day it was a dog, even dirtier and more 
forlorn, perhaps, than was the kitten; and again 
Miss Polly, to her dumfounded amazement, found 
herself figuring as a kind protector and an angel of 
mercy — a role that Pollyanna so unhesitatingly 
thrust upon her as a matter of course, that the 
woman — who abhorred dogs even more than she 
did cats, if possible — found herself as before, 
powerless to remonstrate. 

When, in less than a week, however, Pollyanna 
brought home a small, ragged boy, and confidently 
claimed the same protection for him, Miss Polly 
did have something to say. It happened after this 
wise. 

On a pleasant Thursday morning Pollyanna had 
been taking calf’s-foot jelly again to Mrs. Snow. 


110 


Pollyanna 


Mrs. Snow and Pollyanna were the best of friends 
now. Their friendship had started from the third 
visit Pollyanna had made, the one after she had 
told Mrs. Snow of the game. Mrs. Snow herself 
was playing the game now, with Pollyanna. To be 
sure, she was not playing it very well — she had 
been sorry for everything for so long, that it was 
not easy to be glad for anything now. But under 
Pollyanna’s cheery instructions and merry laughter 
at her mistakes, she was learning fast. To-day, 
even, to Pollyanna’s huge delight, she had said that 
she was glad Pollyanna brought calf’s-foot jelly, 
because that was just what she had been wanting — 
she did not know that Milly, at the front door, had 
told Pollyanna that the minister’s wife had already 
that day sent over a great bowlful of that same 
kind of jelly. 

Pollyanna was thinking of this now when sud- 
denly she saw the boy. 

The boy was sitting in a disconsolate little heap 
by the roadside, whittling half-heartedly at a small 
stick. 

“ Hullo,” smiled Pollyanna, engagingly. 

The boy glanced up, but he looked away again, 
at once. 

“ Hullo yourself,” he mumbled. 


Introducing Jimmy 


ill 


Pollyanna laughed. 

“ Now you don’t look as if you’d be glad even 
for calf’s-foot jelly,” she chuckled, stopping before 
him. 

The boy stirred restlessly, gave her a sur- 
prised look, and began to whittle again at his 
stick, with the dull, broken-bladed knife in his 
hand. 

Pollyanna hesitated, then dropped herself com- 
fortably down on the grass near him. In spite of 
Pollyanna’s brave assertion that she was “ used to 
Ladies’ Aiders,” and “ didn’t mind,” she had sighed 
at times for some companion of her own age. 
Hence her determination to make the most of this 
one. 

“ My name’s Pollyanna Whittier,” she began 
pleasantly. “ What’s yours ? ” 

Again the boy stirred restlessly. He even almost 
got to his feet. But he settled back. 

“ Jimmy Bean,” he grunted with ungracious in- 
difference. 

“Good! Now we’re introduced. I’m glad you 
did your part — some folks don’t, you know. I 
live at Miss Polly Harrington’s house. Where do 
you live ? ” 

“ Nowhere.” 


112 


Pollyanna 


“ Nowhere ! Why, you can't do that — every- 
body lives somewhere,” asserted Pollyanna. 

“Well, I don’t — just now. I’m huntin’ up a 
new place.” 

“Oh! Where is it?” 

The boy regarded her with scornful eyes. 

“ Silly ! As if I’d be a-huntin’ for it — if I 
knew ! ” 

Pollyanna tossed her head a little. This was not 
a nice boy, and she did not like to be called “ silly.” 
Still, he was somebody besides — old folks. 

“ Where did you live — before ? ” she queried. 

“ Well, if you ain’t the beat’em for askin’ ques- 
tions ! ” sighed the boy impatiently. 

“ I have to be,” retorted Pollyanna calmly, “ else 
I couldn’t find out a thing about you. If you’d 
talk more I wouldn’t talk so much.” 

The boy gave a short laugh. It was a sheepish 
laugh, and not quite a willing one; but his face 
looked a little pleasanter when he spoke this 
time. 

“ All right then — here goes ! I’m Jimmy Bean, 
and I’m ten years old goin’ on eleven. I come 
last year ter live at the Orphans’ Home; but 
they’ve got so many kids there ain’t much room for 
me, an’ I wa’n’t never wanted, anyhow, I don’t 



OH, I KNOW JUST THE PLACE FOR YOU./ SHE CRIED / 1 


H ( 




Introducing Jimmy 


113 


believe. So I’ve quit. I’m goin’ ter live some- 
wheres else — but I hain’t found the place, yet. I’d 
like a home — jest a common one, ye know, with 
a mother in it, instead of a Matron. If ye has a 
home, ye has folks ; an’ I hain’t had folks since — 
dad died. So I’m a-huntin’ now. I’ve tried four 
houses, but — they didn’t want me — though I 
said I expected ter work, ’course. There ! Is that 
all you want ter know?” The boy’s voice had 
broken a little over the last two sentences. 

“ Why, what a shame ! ” sympathized Pollyanna. 
“ And didn’t there anybody want you ? O dear ! I 
know just how you feel, because after — after my 
father died, too, there wasn’t anybody but the 
Ladies’ Aid for me, until Aunt Polly said she’d 
take — ” Pollyanna stopped abruptly. The dawn- 
ing of a wonderful idea began to show in her 
face - . 

“ Oh, I know just the place for you,” she cried. 
“ Aunt Polly’ll take you — I know she will ! Didn’t 
she take me? And didn’t she take Fluffy and 
Buffy, when they didn’t have any one to love them, 
or any place to go? — and they’re only cats and 
dogs. Oh, come, I know Aunt Polly’ll take you! 
You don’t know how good and kind she is ! ” 

Jimmy Bean’s thin little face brightened. 


114 


Pollyanna 




“Honest Injun? Would she, now? I’d work, 
ye know, an’ I’m real strong! ” He bared a small, 
bony arm. 

“ Of course she would ! Why, my Aunt Polly is 
the nicest lady in the world — now that my mama 
has gone to be a Heaven angel. And there’s rooms 
— heaps of ’em,” she continued, springing to her 
feet, and tugging at his arm. “ It’s an awful big 
house. Maybe, though,” she added a little anx- 
iously, as they hurried on, “ maybe you’ll have to 
sleep in the attic room. I did, at first. But there’s 
screens there now, so ’twon’t be so hot, and the flies 
can’t get in, either, to bring in the germ-things on 
their feet. Did you know about that? It’s per- 
fectly lovely! Maybe she’ll let you read the book 
if you’re good — I mean, if you’re bad. And you’ve 
got freckles, too,” — with a critical glance — “ so 
you’ll be glad there isn’t any looking-glass ; and the 
outdoor picture is nicer than any wall-one could be, 
so you won’t mind sleeping in that room at all, I’m 
sure,” panted Pollyanna, finding suddenly that she 
needed the rest of her breath for purposes other 
than talking. 

“Gorry!” exclaimed Jimmy Bean tersely and 
uncomprehendingly, but admiringly. Then he 
added : “ I shouldn’t think anybody who could talk 


Introducing Jimmy 


115 


like that, runnin’, would need ter ask no questions 
ter fill up time with ! ” 

Pollyanna laughed. 

“ Well, anyhow, you can be glad of that,” she 
retorted ; “ for when I’m talking, you don’t have 
to!” 

When the house was reached, Pollyanna unhesi- 
tatingly piloted her companion straight into the 
presence of her amazed aunt. 

“ Oh, Aunt Polly,” she triumphed. “ Just look 
a-here! I’ve got something ever so much nicer, 
even, than Fluffy and Buffy for you to bring up. 
It’s a real live boy. He won’t mind a bit sleeping 
in the attic, at first, you know, and he says he’ll 
work; but I shall need him the most of the time to 
play with, I reckon.” 

Miss Polly grew white, then very red. She did 
not quite understand; but she thought she under- 
stood enough. 

“ Pollyanna, what does this mean ? Who is this 
dirty little boy? Where did you find him?” she 
demanded sharply. 

The “ dirty little boy ” fell back a step and 
looked toward the door. Poilyanna laughed mer- 

rily. 


116 


Pollyanna 


“ There, if I didn’t forget to tell you his name ! 
I’m as bad as the Man. And he is dirty, too, isn’t 
he? — I mean, the boy is — just like Fluffy and 
Buffy were when you took them in. But I reckon 
he’ll improve all right by washing, just as they did, 
and — Oh, I ’most forgot again,” she broke off 
with a laugh. “ This is Jimmy Bean, Aunt Polly.” 

“ Well, what is he doing here? ” 

“Why, Aunt Polly, I just told you!” Polly- 
anna’s eyes were wide with surprise. “ He’s for 
you. I brought him home — so he could live here, 
you know. He wants a home and folks. I told 
him how good you were to me, and to Fluffy and 
Buffy, and that I knew you would be to him, be- 
cause of course he’s even nicer than cats and dogs.” 

Miss Polly dropped back in her chair and raised 
a shaking hand to her throat. The old helplessness 
was threatening once more to overcome her. With 
a visible struggle, however, Miss Polly pulled her- 
self suddenly erect. 

“ That will do, Pollyanna. This is a little the 
most absurd thing you’ve done yet. As if tramp 
cats and mangy dogs weren’t bad enough but you 
must needs bring home ragged little beggars from 
the street, who — ” 

There was a sudden stir from the boy. His eyes 


Introducing Jimmy 


117 


flashed and his chin came up. With two strides of 
his sturdy little legs he confronted Miss Polly fear- 
lessly. 

“ I ain’t a beggar, marm, an’ I don’t want nothin’ 
o’ you. I was cal’latin’ ter work, of course, fur my 
board an’ keep. I wouldn’t have come ter your old 
house, anyhow, if this ’ere girl hadn’t ’a’ made me, 
a-tellin’ me how you was so good an’ kind that 
you’d be jest dyin’ ter take me in. So, there!” 
And he wheeled about and stalked from the room 
with a dignity that would have been absurd had it 
not been so pitiful. 

“ Oh, Aunt Polly,” choked Pollyanna. “ Why, 
I thought you’d be glad to have him here ! I’m sure, 
I should think you’d be glad — ” 

Miss Polly raised her hand with a peremptory 
gesture of silence. Miss Polly’s nerves had snapped 
at last. The “ good and kind ” of the boy’s words 
were still ringing in her ears, and the old helpless- 
ness was almost upon her, she knew. Yet she ral- 
lied her forces with the last atom of her will power. 

“ Pollyanna,” she cried sharply, “ will you stop 
using that everlasting word ‘ glad ’ ! It’s * glad ’ — 
* glad ’ — ‘ glad ’ from morning till night until I 
think I shall grow wild ! ” 

From sheer amazement Pollyanna’s jaw dropped. 


118 


Pollyanna 


“ Why, Aunt Polly,” she breathed, “ I should 
think you’d be glad to have me gl — Oh ! ” she 
broke off, clapping her hand to her lips and hurry- 
ing blindly from the room. 

Before the boy had reached the end of the drive- 
way, Pollyanna overtook him. 

“ Boy! Boy! Jimmy Bean, I want you to know 
how — how sorry I am,” she panted, catching him 
with a detaining hand. 

“ Sorry nothin’ ! I ain’t blamin’ you,” retorted 
the boy, sullenly. “ But I ain’t no beggar ! ” he 
added, with sudden spirit. 

“ Of course you aren’t ! But you mustn’t blame 
auntie,” appealed Pollyanna. “ Probably I didn’t 
do the introducing right, anyhow; and I reckon I 
didn’t tell her much who you were. She is good 
and kind, really — she’s always been ; but I prob- 
ably didn’t explain it right. I do wish I could find 
some place for you, though! ” 

The boy shrugged his shoulders and half turned 
away. 

“ Never mind. I guess I can find one myself. I 
ain’t no beggar, you know.” 

Pollyanna was frowning thoughtfully. Of a 
sudde 1 her face illumined. 

“ S r ou what I will do ! The Ladies' 


Introducing Jimmy 


119 ' 


Aid meets this afternoon. I heard Aunt Polly say 
so. I’ll lay your case before them. That’s what 
father always did, when he wanted anything — 
educating the heathen and new carpets, you know.” 

The boy turned fiercely. 

“ Well, I ain’t a heathen or a new carpet. Be- 
sides — what is a Ladies’ Aid ? ” 

Pollyanna stared in shocked disapproval. 

“ Why, Jimmy Bean, wherever have you been 
brought up ? — not to know what a Ladies’ Aid 
is!” 

“ Oh, all right — if you ain’t tellin’,” grunted the 
boy, turning and beginning to walk away indiffer- 
ently. 

Pollyanna sprang to his side at once. 

“ It’s — it’s — why, it’s just a lot of ladies that 
meet and sew and give suppers and raise money 
and — and talk; that’s what a Ladies’ Aid is. 
They’re awfully kind — that is, most of mine was, 
back home. I haven’t seen this one here, but they’re 
always good, I reckon. I’m going to tell them about 
you this afternoon.” 

Again the boy turned fiercely. 

“ Not much you will ! Maybe you think I’m 
goin’ ter stand ’round an’ hear a whole lot o’ women 
call me a beggar, instead of jest one! Not much! •’ 


no 


Pollyanna 


“ Oh, but you wouldn’t be there,” argued Polly- 
anna, quickly. “ I’d go alone, of course, and tell 

them. ” 

“You would?” 

“Yes; and I’d tell it better this time,” hurried 
on Pollyanna, quick to see the signs of relenting in 
the boy’s face. “ And there’d be some of ’em, I 
know, that would be glad to give you a home.” 

“ I’d work — don’t forget ter say that,” cau- 
tioned the boy. 

“Of course not,” promised Pollyanna, happily, 
sure now that her point was gained. “ Then I’ll let 
you know to-morrow.” 

“ Where?” 

“ By the road — where I found you to-day; near 
Mrs. Snow’s house.” 

“ All right. I’ll be there.” The boy paused be- 
fore he went on slowly : “ Maybe I’d better go back, 

then, for ter-night, ter the Home. You see I hain’t 
no other place ter stay ; and — and I didn’t leave 
till this mornin’. I slipped out. I didn’t tell ’em I 
wasn’t cornin’ back, else they’d pretend I couldn’t 
come — though I’m thinkin’ they won’t do no 
worryin’ when I don’t show up sometime. They 
ain’t like folks, ye know. They don’t caret” 

“ I know,” nodded Pollyanna, with understand- 


Introducing Jimmy 


121 


in g eyes. “ But I’m sure, when I see you to-mor- 
row, I’ll have just a common home and folks that 
do care all ready for you. Good-by ! ” she called 
brightly, as she turned back toward the house. 

In the sitting-room window at that moment, Miss 
Polly, who had been watching the two children, 
followed with sombre eyes the boy until a bend of 
the road hid him from sight. Then she sighed, 
turned, and walked listlesly up-stairs — and Miss 
Polly did not usually move listlessly. In her ears 
still was the boy’s scornful “ you was so good and 
kind.” In her heart was a curious sense of desola- 
tion — as of something lost. 


CHAPTER XII 


BEFORE THE LADIES’ AID 

Dinner, which came at noon in the Harrington 
homestead, was a silent meal on the day of the 
Ladies’ Aid meeting. Pollyanna, it is true, tried 
to talk ; but she did not make a success of it, chiefly 
because four times she was obliged to break off a 
“ glad ” in the middle of it, much to her blushing 
discomfort. The fifth time it happened, Miss Polly 
moved her head wearily. 

“ There, there, child, say it, if you want to,” she 
sighed. “ I’m sure I’d rather you did than not — 
if it’s going to make all this fuss.” 

Pollyanna’s puckered little face cleared. 

“ Oh, thank you. I’m afraid it would be pretty 
hard — not to say it. You see I’ve played it so 
long.” 

“ You’ve — what?” demanded Aunt Polly. 

“ Played it — the game, you know, that 
father — ” Pollyanna stopped with a painful 
blush at finding herself so soon again on forbidden 
ground. 


122 


Before the Ladies’ Aid 


123 


Aunt Polly frowned and said nothing. The rest 
of the meal was a silent one. 

Pollyanna was not sorry to hear Aunt Polly tell 
the minister’s wife over the telephone, a little later, 
that she would not be at the Ladies’ Aid meeting 
that afternoon, owing to a headache. When Aunt 
Polly went up-stairs to her room and closed the 
door, Pollyanna tried to be sorry for the headache ; 
but she could not help feeling glad that her aunt 
was not to be present that afternoon when she laid 
the case of Jimmy Bean before the Ladies’ Aid. 
She could not forget that Aunt Polly had called 
Jimmy Bean a little beggar; and she did not want 
Aunt Polly to call him that — before the Ladies’ 
Aid. 

Pollyanna knew that the Ladies’ Aid met at two 
o’clock in the chapel next the church, not quite half 
a mile from home. She planned her going, there- 
fore, so that she should get there a little before 
three. 

“ I want them all to be there,” she said to her- 
self ; “^else the very one that wasn’t there might be 
the one who would be wanting to give Jimmy Bean 
a home; and, of course, two o’clock always means 
three, really — to Ladies’ Aiders.” 

Quietly, but with confident courage, Pollyanna 


124 


Pollyanna 


ascended the chapel steps, pushed open the door and 
entered the vestibule. A soft babel of feminine 
chatter and laughter came from the main room. 
Hesitating only a brief moment Pollyanna pushed 
open one of the inner doors. 

The chatter dropped to a surprised hush. Polly- 
anna advanced a little timidly. Now that the time 
had come, she felt unwontedly shy. After all, these 
half-strange, half-familiar faces- about her were not 
her own dear Ladies’ Aid. 

“ How do you do, Ladies’ Aiders? ” she faltered 
politely. “ Pm Pollyanna Whittier. I — I reckon 
some of you know me, maybe; anyway, I do you 
— only I don’t know you all together this way.” 

The silence could almost be felt now. Some of 
the ladies did know this rather extraordinary niece 
of their fellow-member, and nearly all had heard 
of her; but not one of them could think of any- 
thing to say, just then. 

“ I — I’ve come to — to lay the case before you,” 
stammered Pollyanna, after a moment, uncon- 
sciously falling into her father’s familiar phrase- 
ology. 

There was a slight rustle. 

“ Did — did your aunt send you, my dear ? 9 
asked Mrs. Ford, the minister’s wife. 


Before the Ladies , Aid 


125 


Pollyanna colored a little. 

“ Oh, no. I came all by myself. You see, I’m 
used to Ladies’ Aiders. It was Ladies’ Aiders that 
brought me up — with father.” 

Somebody tittered hysterically, and the minister’s 
wife frowned. 

“ Yes, dear. What is it?” 

“Well, it — it’s Jimmy Bean,” sighed Polly* 
anna. “ He hasn’t any home except the Orphan 
one, and they’re full, and don’t want him, anyhow, 
he thinks; so he wants another. He wants one of 
the common kind, that has a mother mstead of a 
Matron in it — folks, you know, that’ll care. He’s 
ten years old going on eleven. I thought some of 
you might like him — to live with you, you know.” 

“ Well, did you ever! ” murmured a voice, break- 
ing the dazed pause that followed Pollyanna’s 
words. 

With anxious eyes Pollyanna swept the circle of 
faces about her. 

“ Oh. I forgot to say; he will work,” she sup- 
plemented eagerly. 

Still there was silence; then, coldly, one or two 
women began to question her. After a time they 
all had the story and began to talk among them- 
selves, animatedly, not quite pleasantly. 


126 


Pollyanna 


Pollyanna listened with growing anxiety. Some 
of what was said she could not understand. She 
did gather, after a time, however, that there was 
no woman there who had a home to give him, 
though every woman seemed to think that some of 
the others might take him, as there were several 
who had no little boys of their own already in their 
homes. But there was no one who agreed herself 
to take him. Then she heard the minister’s wife 
suggest timidly that they, as a society, might per- 
haps assume his support and education instead of 
sending quite so much money this year to the little 
boys in far-away India. 

A great many ladies talked then, and several of 
them talked all at once, and even more loudly and 
more unpleasantly than before. It seemed that their 
society was famous for its offering to Hindu mis- 
sions, and several said they should die of mortifi- 
cation if it should be less this year. Some of what 
was said at this time Pollyanna again thought she 
could not have understood, too, for it sounded al- 
most as if they did not care at all what the money 
did, so long as the sum opposite the name of their 
society in a certain “ report ” “ headed the list ” — 
and of course that could not be what they meant at 
all! But it was all very confusing, and not quite 


Before the Ladies’ Aid 


127 


pleasant, so that Pollyanna was glad, indeed, when 
at last she found herself outside in the hushed, sweet 
air — only she was very sorry, too : for she knew 
it was not going to be easy, or anything but sad, 
to tell Jimmy Bean to-morrow that the Ladies’ Aid 
had decided that they would rather send all their 
money to bring up the little India boys than to 
save out enough to bring up one little boy in their 
own town, for which they would not get “ a bit 
of credit in the report,” according to the tall lady 
who wore spectacles. 

“ Not but that it’s good, of course, to send money 
to the heathen, and I shouldn’t want ’em not to 
send some there,” sighed Pollyanna to herself, as 
she trudged sorrowfully along. “ But they acted as 
if little boys here weren’t any account — only little 
boys ’way off. I should think , though, they’d rather 
see Jimmy Bean grow — than just a report! ” 


CHAPTER XIII 


IN PENDLETON WOODS 

Pollyanna had not turned her steps toward 
home, when she left the chapel. She had turned 
them, instead, toward Pendleton Hill. It had been 
a hard day, for all it had been a “ vacation one ” (as 
she termed the infrequent days when there was no 
sewing or cooking lesson), and Pollyanna was sure 
that nothing would do her quite so much good as 
a walk through the green quiet of Pendleton Woods. 
Up Pendleton Hill, therefore, she climbed steadily, 
in spite of the warm sun on her back. 

“ I don’t have to get home till half-past five, any- 
way,” she was telling herself ; “ and it’ll be so much 
nicer to go around by the way of the woods, even 
if I do have to climb to get there.” 

It was very beautiful in the Pendleton Woods, as 
Pollyanna knew by experience. But to-day it 
seemed even more delightful than ever, notwith- 
standing her disappointment over what she must 
tell Jimmy Bean to-morrow. 

128 


In Pendleton Woods 


129 


“ I wish they were up here — all those ladies 
who talked so loud,” sighed Pollyanna to herself, 
raising her eyes to the patches of vivid blue between 
the sunlit green of the tree-tops. “ Anyhow, if 
they were up here, I just reckon they’d change and 
take Jimmy Bean for their little boy, all right,” she 
finished, secure in her conviction, but unable to give 
a reason for it, even to herself. 

Suddenly Pollyanna lifted her head and listened. 
A dog had barked some distance ahead. A moment 
later he came dashing toward her, still barking. 

“ Hullo, doggie — hullo ! ” Pollyanna snapped 
her fingers at the dog and looked expectantly down 
the path. She had seen the dog once before, she 
was sure. He had been then with the Man, Mr. 
John Pendleton. She was looking now, hoping to 
see him. For some minutes she watched eagerly, 
but he did not appear. Then she turned her atten- 
tion toward the dog. 

The dog, as even Pollyanna could see, was acting 
strangely. He was still barking — giving little 
short, sharp yelps, as if of alarm. He was running 
back and forth, too, in the path ahead. Soon they 
reached a side path, and down this the little dog 
fairly flew, only to come back at once, whining and 
barking. 


130 


Pollyanna 


“ Ho ! That isn’t the way home,” laughed Polly- 
anna, still keeping to the main path. 

The little dog seemed frantic now. Back and 
forth, back and forth, between Pollyanna and the 
side path he vibrated, barking and whining pitifully. 
Every quiver of his little brown body, and every 
glance from his beseeching brown eyes were elo- 
quent with appeal — so eloquent that at last Polly- 
anna understood, turned, and followed him. 

Straight ahead, now, the little dog dashed madly; 
and it was not long before Pollyanna came upon 
the reason for it all : a man lying motionless at the 
foot of a steep, overhanging mass of rock a few 
yards from the side path. 

A twig cracked sharply under Pollyanna’s foot, 
and the man turned his head. With a cry of dis- 
may Pollyanna ran to his side. 

“ Mr. Pendleton ! Oh, are you hurt ? ” 

“Hurt? Oh, no! Pm just taking a siesta in 
the sunshine,” snapped the man irritably. “ See 
here, how much do you know ? What can you do ? 
Have you got any sense ? ” 

Pollyanna caught her breath with a little gasp, 
but — as was her habit — she answered the ques- 
tions literally, one by one. 

“ Why, Mr. Pendleton, I — I don’t know so very 


In Pendleton Woods 131 


much, and I can’t do a great many things; but 
most of the Ladies’ Aiders, except Mrs. Rawson, 
said I had real good sense. I heard ’em say so one 
day — they didn’t know I heard, though.” 

The man smiled grimly. 

“ There, there, child, I beg your pardon, I’m 
sure; it’s only this confounded leg of mine. Now 
listen.” He paused, and with some difficulty 
reached his hand into his trousers pocket and 
brought out a bunch of keys, singling out one be- 
tween his thumb and forefinger. “ Straight 
through the path there, about five minutes’ walk, is 
my house. This key will admit you to the side door 
under the porte-cochere. Do you know what a 
porte-cochere is ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir. Auntie has one with a sun parlor 
over it. That’s the roof I slept on — only I didn’t 
sleep, you know. They found me.” 

“ Eh? Oh! Well, when you get into the house, 
go straight through the vestibule and hall to the 
door at the end. On the big, flat-topped desk in 
the middle of the room you’ll find a telephone. Do 
you know how to use a telephone ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir ! Why, once when Aunt Polly — ” 

“ Never mind Aunt Polly now,” cut in the man 
Rcowlingly, as he tried to move himself a little. 


132 


Pollyanna 


“ Hunt up Dr. Thomas Chilton’s number on the 
card you’ll find somewhere around there — it ought 
to be on the hook down at the side, but it probably 
won’t be. You know a telephone card, I suppose, 
when you see one ! ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir! I just love Aunt Polly’s. There’s 
such a lot of queer names, and — ” 

“ Tell Dr. , Chilton that John Pendleton is at the 
foot of Little Eagle Ledge in Pendleton Woods 
with a broken leg, and to come at once with a 
stretcher and two men. He’ll know T * at to do 
besides that. Tell him to come by the path from 
the house.” 

“ A broken leg ? Oh, Mr. Pendleton, how per- 
fectly awful ! ” shuddered Pollyanna. “ But I’m so 
glad I came ! Can’t / do — ” 

“ Yes, you can — but evidently you won’t ! Will 
you go and do what I ask and stop talking,” moaned 
the man, faintly. And, with a little sobbing cry, 
Pollyanna went. 

Pollyanna did not stop now to look up at the 
patches of blue between the sunlit tops of the trees. 
She kept her eyes on the ground to make sure that 
no twig nor stone tripped her hurrying feet. 

It was not long before she came in sight of the 
house. She had seen it before, though never so 


In Pendleton Woods 


133 


near as this. She was almost frightened now at 
the massiveness of the great pile of gray stone with 
its pillared verandas and its imposing entrance. 
Pausing only a moment, however, she sped across 
the big neglected lawn and around the house to the 
side door under the porte-cochere. Her fingers, 
stiff from their tight clutch upon the keys, were any- 
thing but skilful in their efforts to turn the bolt in 
the lock ; but at last the heavy, carved door swung 
slowly back on its hinges. 

Pollyanna caught her breath. In spite of her 
feeling of haste, she paused a moment and looked 
fearfully through the vestibule to the wide, sombre 
hall beyond, her thoughts in a whirl. This wa 
John Pendleton’s house; the house of mystery; the 
house into which no one but its master entered ; the 
house which sheltered, somewhere — a skeleton. 
Yet she, Pollyanna, was expected to enter alone 
these fearsome rooms, and telephone the doctor that 
the master of the house lay now — 

With a little cry Pollyanna, looking neither to 
the right nor the left, fairly ran through the hall 
to the door at the end and opened it. 

The room was large, and sombre with dark woods 
and hangings like the hall; but through the west 
.window the sun threw a long shaft pf gold across 


134 


Pollyanna 


the floor, gleamed dully on the tarnished brass and** 
irons in the fireplace, and touched the nickel of the 
telephone on the great desk in the middle of the 
room. It was toward this desk that Pollyanna 
hurriedly tiptoed. 

The telephone card was not on its hook; it was 
on the floor. But Pollyanna found it, and ran her 
shaking forefinger down through the C’s to “ Chil- 
ton.” In due time she had Dr. Chilton himself at 
the other end of the wires, and was tremblingly 
delivering her message and answering the doctor’s 
terse, pertinent questions. This done, she hung up 
the receiver and drew a long breath of relief 

Only a brief glance did Pollyanna give about her; 
then, with a confused vision in her eyes of crimson 
draperies, book-lined walls, a littered floor, an un- 
tidy desk, innumerable closed doors (any one of 
which might conceal a skeleton), and everywhere 
dust, dust, dust, she fled back through the hall to 
the great carved door, still half open as she had 
left it. 

In what seemed, even to the injured man, an in- 
credibly short time, Pollyanna was back in the 
woods at the man’s side. 

s< Well, what is the trouble? Couldn’t you get 
in ? ” he demanded. 


In Pendleton Woods 


135 


Pollyanna opened wide her eyes. 

“ Why, of course I could ! I’m here,” she an- 
swered. “ As if I’d be here if I hadn’t got in ! And 
the doctor will be right up just as soon as possible 
with the men and things. He said he knew just 
where you were, so I didn’t stay to show him. I 
wanted to be with you.” 

“ Did you? ” smiled the man, grimly. “ Well, I 
can’t say I admire your taste. I should think you 
might find pleasanter companions.” 

“ Do you mean — because you’re so — cross ? ” 

“ Thanks for your frankness. Yes.” 

Pollyanna laughed softly. 

“ But you’re only cross outside — you aren’t 
cross inside a bit! ” 

“ Indeed ! How do you know that ? ” asked the 
man, trying to change the position of his head with- 
out moving the rest of his body. 

“ Oh, lots of ways ; there — like that — the way 
you act with the dog,” she added, pointing to the 
long, slender hand that rested on the dog’s sleek 
head near him. “ It’s funny how dogs and cats 
know the insides of folks better than other folks 
do, isn’t it? Say, I’m going to hold your head,’ 1 ' 
she finished abruptly. 

The man winced several times and groaned once 


136 


Pollyanna 


softly while the change was being made ; but in the 
end he found Pollyanna’s lap a very welcome sub- 
stitute for the rocky hollow in which his head had 
lain before. 

“ Well, that is — better,” he murmured faintly. 

He did not speak again for some time. Polly- 
anna, watching his face, wondered if he were asleep. 
She did not think he was. He looked as if his lips 
were tight shut to keep back moans of pain. Polly- 
anna herself almost cried aloud as she looked at 
his great, strong body lying there so helpless. One 
hand, with fingers tightly clenched, lay outflung, 
motionless. The other, limply open, lay on the 
dog’s head. The dog, his wistful, eager eyes on his 
master’s face, was motionless, too. 

Minute by minute the time passed. The sun 
dropped lower in the west and the shadows grew 
deeper under the trees. Pollyanna sat so still she 
hardly seemed to breathe. A bird alighted fear- 
lessly within reach of her hand, and a squirrel 
whisked his bushy tail on a tree-branch almost 
under her nose — yet with his bright little eyes all 
the while on the motionless dog. 

At last the dog pricked up his ears and whined 
softly; then he gave a short, sharp bark. The 
next moment Pollyanna heard voices, and very soon 




In Pendleton Woods 


137 


their owners appeared — three men carrying a 
stretcher and various other articles. 

The tallest of the party — a smooth-shaven, 
kind-eyed man whom Pollyanna knew by sight as 
“ Dr. Chilton ” — advanced cheerily. 

“Well, my little lady, playing nurse ?” 

“ Oh, no, sir,” smiled Pollyanna. “ I’ve only 
held his head — I haven’t given him a mite of med- 
icine. But I’m glad I was here.” 

“ So am I,” nodded the doctor, as he turned his 
absorbed attention to the injured man. 


CHAPTER XIV 


JUST A MATTER OF JELLY 

Pollyanna was a little late for supper on the 
night of the accident to John Pendleton; but, as it 
happened, she escaped without reproof. 

Nancy met her at the door. 

“ Well, if I ain’t glad ter be settin’ my two eyes 
on you,” she sighed in obvious relief. “ It’s half- 
past six! ” 

“ I know it,” admitted Pollyanna anxiously; “ but 
I’m not to blame — truly I’m not. And I don’t 
think even Aunt Polly will say I am, either.” 

“ She won’t have the chance,” retorted Nancy, 
with huge satisfaction. “ She’s gone.” 

“Gone!” gasped Pollyanna. “You don’t mean 
that I’ve driven her away? ” Through Pollyanna’s 
mind at the moment trooped remorseful memories 
of the morning with its unwanted boy, cat, and 
dog, and its unwelcome “ glad ” and forbidden 
“ father ” that would spring to her forgetful little 
tongue. “Oh, I didn’t drive her away?” 

138 


139 


Just a Matter of Jelly 

“ Not much you did,” scoffed Nancy. “ Her 
cousin died suddenly down to Boston, and she had 
ter go. She had one o’ them yeller telegram letters 
after you went away this afternoon, and she won’t 
be back for three days. Now I guess we’re glad 
all right. We’ll be keepin’ house tergether, jest you 
and me, all that time. We will, we will! ” 

Pollyanna looked shocked. 

‘‘Glad! Oh, Nancy, when it’s a funeral?” 

“ Oh, but ’twa’n’t the funeral I was glad for, Miss 
Pollyanna. It was — ” Nancy stopped abruptly. 
A shrewd twinkle came into her eyes. “ Why, Miss 
Pollyanna, as if it wa’n’t yerself that was teachin’ 
me ter play the game,” she reproached her gravely. 

Pollyanna puckered her forehead into a troubled 
frown. 

“ I can’t help it, Nancy,” she argued with a shake 
of her head. “ It must be that there are some things 
that ’tisn’t right to play the game on — and I’m sure 
funerals is one of them. There’s nothing in a fu- 
neral to be glad about.” 

Nancy chuckled. 

“ We can be glad ’tain’t our’n,” she observed de- 
murely. But Pollyanna did not hear. She had 
begun to tell of the accident; and in a moment 
Nancy, open-mouthed, was listening. 


140 


Foiryanna 


At the appointed place the next afternoon, Polly- 
anna met Jimmy Bean according to agreement. As 
was to be expected, of course, Jimmy showed keen 
disappointment that the Ladies’ Aid preferred a 
little India boy to himself. 

“ Well, maybe ’tis natural,” he sighed. “ Of 
course things you don’t know about are always 
nicer’n things you do, same as the pertater on ’tother 
side of the plate is always the biggest. But I wish 
I looked that way ter somebody ’way off. Wouldn’t 
it be jest great, now, if only somebody over in India 
wanted mef ” 

Pollyanna clapped her hands. 

“ Why, of course ! That’s the very thing, Jimmy ! 
I’ll write to my Ladies’ Aiders about you. They 
aren’t over in India; they’re only out West — but 
that’s awful far away, just the same. I reckon 
you’d think so if you’d come all the way here as I 
did ! ” 

Jimmy’s face brightened. 

“ Do you think they would — truly — take me ? ” 
he asked. 

“ Of course they would! Don’t they take little 
boys in India to bring up? Well, they can jusk 
play you are the little India boy this time. I reckon 
you’re far enough away to make a report, all right 


Just a Matter of Jelly 


HI 


You wait. I’ll write ’em. I’ll write Mrs. White. 
No, I’ll write Mrs. Jones. Mrs. White has got the 
most money, but Mrs. Jones gives the most — which 
is kind of funny, isn’t it? — when you think of it. 
But I reckon some of the Aiders will take you.” 

“ All right — but don’t furgit ter say I’ll work 
fur my board an’ keep,” put in Jimmy. “ I ain’t 
no beggar, an’ biz’ness is biz’ness, even with Ladies’ 
Aiders, I’m thinkin’.” He hesitated, then added: 
“ An’ I s’pose I better stay where I be fur a spell 
yet — till you hear.” 

“ Of course,” nodded Pollyanna emphatically. 
“ Then I’ll know just where to find you. And 
they’ll take you — I’m sure you’re far enough away 
for that. Didn’t Aunt Polly take — Say ! ” she 
broke off, suddenly, “ do you suppose I was Aunt 
Polly’s little girl from India? ” 

“ Well, if you ain’t the queerest kid,” grinned 
Jimmy, as he turned away. 

It was about a week after the accident in Pendle- 
ton Woods that Pollyanna said to her aunt one 
morning : 

“ Aunt Polly, please would you mind very much 
if I took Mrs. Snow’s calf’s-foot jelly this week to 
some one else? I’m sure Mrs. Snow wouldn’t — * 
this once.” 


142 


Pollyanna 


“ Dear me, Pollyanna, what are you up to now? ” 
sighed her aunt. “ You are the most extraordinary 
child ! ” 

Pollyanna frowned a little anxiously. 

“Aunt Polly, please, what is extraordinary? If 
you’re ^traordinary you can’t be ordinary, can 
you ? ” 

“ You certainly can not.’" 

“ Oh, that’s all right, then. I’m glad I’m ex - 
traurdinary,” sighed Pollyanna, her face clearing. 
“ You see, Mrs. White used to say Mrs. Rawson 
was a very ordinary woman — and she disliked 
Mrs. Rawson something awful. They were always 
fight — I mean, father had — that is, I mean, we 
had more trouble keeping peace between them than 
we did between any of the rest of the Aiders,” cor- 
rected Pollyanna, a little breathless from her efforts 
to steer between the Scylla of her father’s past 
commands in regard to speaking of church quarrels, 
and the Charybdis of her aunt’s present commands 
in regard to speaking of her father. 

“ Yes, yes ; well, never mind,” interposed Aunt 
Polly, a trifle impatiently. “ You do run on so, 
Pollyanna, and no matter what we’re talking about 
you always bring up at those Ladies’ Aiders!” 

“ Yes’m,” smiled Pollyanna, cheerfully, “ I 


Just a Matter of Jelly 


143 


reckon I do, maybe. But you see they used to bring 
me up, and — ” 

“ That will do, Pollyanna,” interrupted a cold 
voice. “ Now what is it about this jelly? ” 

“ Nothing, Aunt Polly, truly, that you would 
mind, I’m sure. You let me take jelly to her , so I 
thought you would to him — this once. You see, 
broken legs aren’t like — like lifelong invalids, so 
his won’t last forever as Mrs. Snow’s does, and 
she can have all the rest of the things after just 
once or twice.” 

“ 4 Him ’ ? ‘ He ’ ? 4 Broken leg ’ ? What are 

you talking about, Pollyanna ? ” 

Pollyanna stared; then her face relaxed. 

“ Oh, I forgot. I reckon you didn’t know. You 
see, it happened while you were gone. It was the 
very day you went that I found him in the woods, 
you know ; and I had to unlock his house and tele- 
phone for the men and the doctor, and hold his 
head, and everything. And of course then I came 
away and haven’t seen him since. But when Nancy 
made the jelly for Mrs. Snow this week I thought 
how nice it would be if I could take it to him in- 
stead of her, just this once. Aunt Polly, may I?” 

“ Yes, yes, I suppose so,” acquiesced Miss Polly, 
a little wearily. “Who did you say he was?” 


144 


.Pollyanna 


“ The Man. I mean, Mr. John Pendleton.’ , 

Miss Polly almost sprang from her chair. 

“ John Pendleton! ” 

“ Yes. Nancy told me his name. Maybe you 
know him.” 

Miss Polly did not answer this. Instead she 
asked : 

“ Do you know him ? ” 

Pollyanna nodded. 

“ Oh, yes. He always speaks and smiles — now. 
He’s only cross outside, you know. I’ll go and get 
the jelly. Nancy had it ’most fixed when I came 
in,” finished Pollyanna, already halfway across the 
room. 

“ Pollyanna, wait ! ” Miss Polly’s voice was 
suddenly very stern. “ I’ve changed my mind. I 
would prefer that Mrs. Snow had that jelly to-day 
— as usual. That is all. You may go now.” 

Pollyanna’s face fell. 

“ Oh, but Aunt Polly, hers will last. She can 
always be sick and have things, you know ; but his 
is just a broken legi, and legs don’t last — I 
mean, broken ones. He’s had it a whole week 
now.” 

“ Yes, I remember. I heard Mr. John Pendleton 
had met with an accident,” said Miss Polly, a little 


Just a Matter of Jelly 


145 


stiffly ; “ but — I do not care to be sending jelly to 
John Pendleton, Pollyanna.” 

“ I know, he is cross — outside,” admitted Polly- 
anna, sadly, “ so I suppose you don’t like him. But 
I wouldn’t say ’twas you sent it. I’d say ’twas me. 
I like him. I’d be glad to send him jelly.” 

Miss Polly began to shake her head again. Then, 
suddenly, she stopped, and asked in a curiously quiet 
voice : 

“ Does he know who you — are, Pollyanna ? ” 

The little girl sighed. 

“ I reckon not. I told him my name, once, but 
he never calls me it — never.” 

“ Does he know where you — live ? ” 

“ Oh, no. I never told him that.” 

“ Then he doesn’t know you’re my — niece? ” 

“ I don’t think so.” 

For a moment there was silence. Miss Polly was 
looking at Pollyanna with eyes that did not seem 
to see her at all. The little girl, shifting impa- 
tiently from one small foot to the other, sighed 
audibly. Then Miss Polly roused herself with a 
start. 

“ Very well, Pollyanna,” she said at last, still in 
that queer voice, So unlike her own ; “ you may — * 
you may take the jelly to Mr. Pendleton as your 


146 


Pollyanna 


own gift. But understand: I do not send it. Be 
very sure that he does not think I do ! ” 

“ Yes’m — no’m — thank you, Aunt Polly,” ex- 
ulted Pollyanna, as she flew through the door. 


CHAPTER XV 


DR. CHILTON 

The great gray pile of masonry looked very dif- 
ferent to Pollyanna when she made her second visit 
to the house of Mr. John Pendleton. Windows 
were open, an elderly woman was hanging out 
clothes in the back yard, and the doctor’s gig stood 
under the porte-cochere. 

As before Pollyanna went to the side door. This 
time she rang the bell — her fingers were not stiff 
to-day from a tight clutch on a bunch of keys. 

A familiar-looking small dog bounded up the 
steps to greet her, but there was a slight delay be- 
fore the woman who had been hanging out the 
clothes opened the door. 

“ If you please, I’ve brought some calf’s-foot 
jelly for Mr. Pendleton,” smiled Pollyanna. 

“ Thank you,” said the woman, reaching for the 
bowl in the little girl’s hand. “ Who shall I say 
sent it? And it’s calf’s-foot jelly? ” 

The doctor, coming into the hall at that moment, 
147 


148 


Pollyanna 


heard the woman’s words and saw the disappointed 
look on Pollyanna’s face. He stepped quickly for- 
ward. 

“Ah! Some calf’s-foot jelly?” he asked geni- 
ally. “ That will be fine ! Maybe you’d like to see 
our patient, eh ? ” 

“ Oh, yes, sir,” beamed Pollyanna ; and the 
woman, in obedience to a nod from the doctor, led 
the way down the hall at once, though plainly with 
vast surprise on her face. 

Behind the doctor, a young man (a trained nurse 
from the nearest city) gave a disturbed exclamation. 

“ But, Doctor, didn’t Mr. Pendleton give orders 
not to admit — any one ? ” 

“ Oh, yes,” nodded the doctor, imperturbably. 
“ But I’m giving orders now. I’ll take the risk.” 
Then he added whimsically: “ You don’t know, of 
course; but that little girl is better than a six-quart 
bottle of tonic any day. If anything or anybody 
can take the grouch out of Pendleton this afternoon, 
she can. That’s why I sent her in.” 

“ Who is she?” 

For one brief moment the doctor hesitated. 

“ She’s the niece of one of our best known resi- 
dents. Her name is Pollyanna Whittier. I — I 
don’t happen to enjoy a very extensive personal ac- 


Dr. Chilton 


149 


quaintance with the little lady as yet; but lots of 
my patients do — I’m thankful to say! ” 

The nurse smiled. 

“ Indeed ! And what are the special ingredients 
of this wonder-working — tonic of hers?” 

The doctor shook his head. 

“ I don’t know. As near as I can find out it is 
an overwhelming, unquenchable gladness for every- 
thing that has happened or is going to happen. At 
any rate, her quaint speeches are constantly being 
repeated to me, and, as near as I can make out, 
* just being glad ’ is the tenor of most of them. 
All is,” he added, with another whimsical smile, as 
he stepped out on to the porch, “ I wish I could 
prescribe her — and buy her — as I would a box 
of pills ; — though if there gets to be many ot her 
in the world, you and I might as well go to ribbon- 
selling and ditch-digging for all the money we’d 
get out of nursing and doctoring,” he laughed, pick- 
ing up the reins and stepping into the gig. 

Pollyanna, meanwhile, in accordance with the 
doctor’s orders, was being escorted to John Pendle- 
ton’s rooms. 

Her way led through the great library at the end 
of the hall, and, rapid as was her progress through 
it, Pollyanna saw at once that great changes had 


150 


Pollyanna 


taken place. The book-lined walls and the crimson 
curtains were the same; but there was no litter on 
the floor, no untidiness on the desk, and not so much 
as a grain of dust in sight. The telephone card 
hung in its proper place, and the brass andirons had 
been polished. One of the mysterious doors was 
open, and it was toward this that the maid led the 
way. A moment later Pollyanna found herself in 
a sumptuously furnished bedroom while the maid 
was saying in a frightened voice : 

“ If you please, sir, here — here’s a little girl with 
some jelly. The doctor said I was to — to bring 
her in.” 

The next moment Pollyanna found herself alone 
with a very cross-looking man lying flat on his back 
in bed. 

“ See here, didn’t I say — ” began an angry voice. 
“ Oh, it’s you ! ” it broke off not very graciously, as 
Pollyanna advanced toward the bed. 

“ Yes, sir,” smiled Pollyanna. “ Oh, I’m so glad 
they let me in ! You see, at first the lady ’most took 
my jelly, and I was so afraid I wasn’t going to see 
you at all. Then the doctor came, and he said I 
might. Wasn’t he lovely to let me see you? ” 

In spite of himself the man’s lips twitched into 
a smile; but all he said was “ Humph! ” 


Dr. Chilton 


151 


“ And I’ve brought you some jelly, ” resumed 
Pollyanna; “ — calf’s-foot. I hope you like it?” 
There was a rising inflection in her voice. 

“ Never ate it.” The fleeting smile had gone, 
and the scowl had come back to the man’s face. 

For a brief instant Pollyanna’s countenance 
showed disappointment; but it cleared as she set 
the bowl of jelly down. 

“ Didn’t you? Well, if you didn’t, then you can’t 
know you don't like it, anyhow, can you? So I 
reckon I’m glad you haven’t, after all. Now, if 
you knew — ” 

“ Yes, yes; well, there’s one thing I know all 
right, and that is that I’m flat on my back right 
here this minute, and that I’m liable to stay here — 
till doomsday, I guess.” 

Pollyanna looked shocked. 

“ Oh, no ! It couldn’t be till doomsday, you 
know, when the angel Gabriel blows his trumpet, 
unless it should come quicker than we think it will 
— oh, of course, I know the Bible says it may come 
quicker than we think, but I don’t think it will — - 
that is, of course I believe the Bible; but J mean I 
don’t think it will come as much quicker as it would 
if it should come now, and — ” 

John Pendleton laughed suddenly — and aloud. 


m 


Pollyanna 


The nurse, coming in at that moment, heard the 
laugh, and beat a hurried — but a very silent — 
retreat. He had the air of a frightened cook who, 
seeing the danger of a breath of cold air striking 
a half-done cake, hastily shuts the oven door. 

“ Aren’t you getting a little mixed? ” asked John 
Pendleton of Pollyanna. 

The little girl laughed. 

“ Maybe. But what I mean is, that legs don’t 
last — broken ones, you know — like lifelong inva- 
lids, same as Mrs. Snow has got. So yours won’t 
last till doomsday at all. I should think you could 
be glad of that.” 

“ Oh, I am,” retorted the man grimly. 

“ And y;m didn’t break but one. You can be glad 
’twasn’t two.” Pollyanna was warming to her task. 

“Of course! So fortunate,” sniffed the man, 
with uplifted eyebrows ; “ looking at it from that 
standpoint, I suppose I might be glad I wasn’t a 
centipede and didn’t break fifty! ” 

Pollyanna chuckled. 

“ Oh, that’s the best yet,” she crowed. “ I know 
what a centipede is ; they’ve got lots of legs. And 
you can be glad — ” 

“ Oh, of course/’ interrupted the man, sharply, 
all the old bitterness coming back to his voice ; “ I 


Dr. Chilton 


153 


can be glad, too, for all the rest, I suppose — the 
nurse, and the doctor, and that confounded woman 
in the kitchen ! ” 

“ Why, yes, sir — only think how bad ’twould be 
if you didn't have them ! ” 

“ Well, I — eh? ” he demanded sharply. 

“ Why, I say, only think how bad it would be if 
you didn’t have ’em * — and you lying here like 
this!” 

“ As if that wasn’t the very thing that was at the 
bottom of the whole matter,” retorted the man, 
testily, “ because I am lying here like this ! And 
yet you expect me to say I’m glad because of a fool 
woman who disarranges the whole house and calls 
it 4 regulating,’ and a man who aids and abets her 
in it, and calls it 4 nursing,’ to say nothing of the 
doctor who eggs ’em both on — and the whole 
bunch of them, meanwhile, expecting me to pay 
them for it, and pay them well, too ! ” 

Pollyanna frowned sympathetically. 

“Yes, I know. That part is too bad — about 
the money — when you’ve been saving it too, all 
this time.” 

“ When — eh?” 

“ Saving it — buying beans and fish balls, you 
know. Say, do you like beans? — or do you 


154 


Pollyanna 


like turkey better, only on account of the sixty 
cents ? ” 

“ Look a-here, child, what are you talking 
about? ” 

Pollyanna smiled radiantly. 

“ About your money, you know — denying your- 
self, and saving it for the heathen. You see, I 
found out about it. Why, Mr. Pendleton, that’s 
one of the ways I knew you weren’t cross inside. 
Nancy told me.” 

The man’s jaw dropped. 

“ Nancy told you I was saving money for the — * 
Well, may I inquire who Nancy is? ” 

“ Our Nancy. She works for Aunt Polly.” 

“ Aunt Polly! Well, who is Aunt Polly?” 

“ She’s Miss Polly Harrington. I live with her.” 

The man made a sudden movement. 

“ Miss — Polly — Harrington ! ” he breathed. 
u You live with — her! ” 

“Yes; Pm her niece. She’s taken me to bring 
up — on account of my mother, you know,” fal- 
tered Pollyanna, in a low voice. “ She was her 
sister. And after father — went to be with her and 
the rest of us in Heaven, there wasn’t any one left 
for me down here but the Ladies’ Aid ; so she took 


Dr. Chilton 


155 


' t ^r-=7-— 1=.. . . = 

The man did not answer. His face, as he lay 
back on the pillow now, was very white — so white 
that Pollyanna was frightened. She rose uncer- 
tainly to her feet. 

“ I reckon maybe I’d better go now,” she pro- 
posed. “ I — I hope you’ll like — the jelly.” 

The man turned his head suddenly, and opened 
his eyes. There was a curious longing in their dark 
depths which even Pollyanna saw, and at which she 
marvelled. 

“ And so you are — Miss Polly Harrington’s 
niece,” he said gently. 

“ Yes, sir.” 

Still the man’s dark eyes lingered on her face, 
until Pollyanna, feeling vaguely restless, murmured : 

“ I — I suppose you know — her.” 

John Pendleton’s lips curved in an odd smile. 

“ Oh, yes ; I know her.” He hesitated, then went 
on, still with that curious smile. “ But — you don’t 
mean — you can’t mean that it was Miss Polly 
Harrington who sent that jelly — to me?” he said 
slowly. 

Pollyanna looked distressed. 

“ N-no, sir; she didn’t. She said I must be very 
sure not to let you think she did send it. BuJ 

I — ” 


156 


Pollyanna 


“ I thought as much,” vouchsafed the man, 
shortly, turning away his head. And Pollyanna, 
still more distressed, tiptoed from the room. 

Under the porte-cochere she found the doctor 
waiting in his gig. The nurse stood on the steps. 

“ Well, Miss Pollyanna, may I have the pleasure 
of seeing you home?” asked the doctor smilingly. 
“ I started to drive on a few minutes ago; then it 
occurred to me that I’d wait for you.” 

“ Thank you, sir. Pm glad you did. I just 
love to ride,” beamed Pollyanna, as he reached out 
his hand to help her in. 

“ Do you ? ” smiled the doctor, nodding his head 
in farewell to the young man on the steps. “ Well, 
as near as I can judge, there are a good many 
things you ‘ love ’ to do — eh ? ” he added, as they 
drove briskly away. 

Pollyanna laughed. 

“ Why, I don’t know. I reckon perhaps -there 
are,” she admitted. “ I like to do ’most everything 
that’s living. Of course I don’t like the other 
things very well — sewing, and reading out loud, 
and all that. But they aren’t living ” 

“No? What are they, then?” 

“ Aunt Polly says they’re ‘ learning to live/ ” 
sighed Pollyanna, with a rueful smile. 


Dr. Chilton 


157 


The doctor smiled now — a little queerly. 

“ Does she? Well, I should think she might 
say — just that.” 

“ Yes,” responded Pollyanna. “ But I don’t see 
it that way at all. I don’t think you have to learn 
how to live. I didn’t, anyhow.” 

The doctor drew a long sigh. 

“ After all, I’m afraid some of us — do have to, 
little girl,” he said. Then, for a time he was silent. 
Pollyanna, stealing a glance at his face, felt vaguely 
sorry for him. He looked so sad. She wished, 
uneasily, that she could “ do something.” It was 
this, perhaps, that caused her to say in a timid 
voice : 

“ Dr. Chilton, I should think being a doctor would 
be the very gladdest kind of a business there was.” 

The doctor turned in surprise. 

“ ‘ Gladdest ’ ! — when I see so much suffering 
always, everywhere I go ? ” he cried. 

She nodded. 

“ I know; but you’re helping it — don’t you see? 
— and of course you’re glad to help it! And so 
that makes you the gladdest of any of us, all the 
time.” 

The doctor’s eyes filled with sudden hot tears. 
The doctor’s life was a singularly lonely one. He 


158 


Pollyanna 


had no wife and no home save his two-room office 
in a boarding house. His profession was very dear 
to him. Looking now into Pollyanna’s shining eyes, 
he felt as if a loving hand had been suddenly laid 
on his head in blessing. He knew, too, that never 
again would a long day’s work or a long night’s 
weariness be quite without that new-found exalta- 
tion that had come to him through Pollyanna’s 
eyes. 

“ God bless you, little girl,” he said unsteadily. 
Then, with the bright smile his patients knew and 
loved so well, he added : “ And I’m thinking, after 
all, that it was the doctor, quite as much as his 
patients, that needed a draft of that tonic!” All 
of which puzzled Pollyanna very much — until a 
chipmunk, running across the road, drove the whole 
matter from her mind. 

The doctor left Pollyanna at her own door, 
smiled at Nancy, who was sweeping off the front 
porch, then drove rapidly away. 

“ I’ve had a perfectly beautiful ride with the doc- 
tor,” announced Pollyanna, bounding up the steps. 
“ He’s lovely, Nancy! ” 

“ Is he?” 

“ Yes. And I told him I should think his busi- 
ness would be the very gladdest one there was.” 


Dr. Chilton 


159 


“ What ! — goin’ ter see sick folks — an’ folks 
what ain’t sick but thinks they is, which is worse ? ” 
Nancy’s face showed open skepticism. 

Pollyanna laughed gleefully. 

“ Yes. That’s ’most what he said, too; but there 
is a way to be glad, even then. Guess!” 

Nancy frowned in meditation. Nancy was get- 
ting so she could play this game of “ being glad ” 
quite successfully, she thought. She rather en- 
joyed studying out Pollyanna’s “ posers,” too, as she 
called some of the little girl’s questions. 

“ Oh, I know,” she chuckled. “ It’s just the op- 
posite from what you told Mis’ Snow.” 

“ Opposite ? ” repeated Pollyanna, obviously puz- 
zled. 

“ Yes. You told her she could be glad because 
other folks wasn’t like her — all sick, you know.” 

“ Yes,” nodded Pollyanna. 

“ Well, the doctor can be glad because he isn’t 
like other folks — the sick ones, I mean, what he 
doctors,” finished Nancy in triumph. 

It was Pollyanna’s turn to frown. 

“ Why, y-yes,” she admitted. “ Of course thaf 
is one way, but it isn’t the way I said ; and — 
someway, I don’t seem to quite like the sound of 
it. It isn’t exactly as if he said he was glad they 


160 


Pollyanna 


were sick, but — You do play the game so funny, 
sometimes, Nancy/’ she sighed, as she went into the 
house. 

Pollyanna found her aunt in the sitting room. 

“ Who was that man — the one who drove into 
the yard, Pollyanna ? ” questioned the lady a little 
sharply. 

“ Why, Aunt Polly, that was Dr. Chilton ! Don’t 
you know him ? ” 

“ Dr. Chilton ! What was he doing — here ? ” 

“ He drove me home. Oh, and I gave the jelly 
to Mr. Pendleton, and — ” 

Miss Polly lifted her head quickly. 

“ Pollyanna, he did not think I sent it?” 

“ Oh, no, Aunt Polly. I told him you didn’t.” 

Miss Polly grew a sudden vivid pink. 

“ You told him I didn’t! ” 

Pollyanna opened wide her eyes at the remonstra- 
tive dismay in her aunt’s voice. 

“ Why, Aunt Polly, you said to ! ” 

Aunt Polly sighed. 

“ I said, Pollyanna, that I did not send it, and for 
you to be very sure that he did not think I did ! — * 
which is a very different matter from telling him 
outright that I did not send it.” And she turned 
vexedly away. 


Dr. Chilton 


161 


“ Dear me! Well, I don’t see where the differ- 
ence is,” sighed Pollyanna, as she went to hang her 
hat on the one particular hook in the house upon 
which Aunt Polly had said that it must be hung. 


CHAPTER XVI 


A RED ROSE AND A LACE SHAWL 

It was on a rainy day about a week after Polly- 
anna’s visit to Mr. John Pendleton, that Miss Polly 
was driven by Timothy to an early afternoon com- 
mittee meeting of the Ladies’ Aid Society. When 
she returned at three o’clock, her cheeks were a 
bright, pretty pink, and her hair, blown by the 
damp wind, had fluffed into kinks and curls wher- 
ever the loosened pins had given leave. 

Pollyanna had never before seen her aunt look 
like this. 

“ Oh — oh — oh ! Why, Aunt Polly, you’ve got 
’em, too,” she cried rapturously, dancing round and 
round her aunt, as that lady entered the sitting 
room. 

“ Got what, you impossible child ? ” 

Pollyanna was still revolving round and round 
her aunt. 

“ And I never knew you had ’em ! Can folks 
have 'em when you don’t know they’ve got ’em? 

162 


A Red Rose and a Lace Shawl 163 


Do you suppose I could? — ’fore I get to Heaven. 
I mean,” she cried, pulling out with eager fingers 
the straight locks above her ears. “ But then, they 
wouldn’t be black, if they did come. You can’t 
hide the black part.” 

“ Pollyanna, what does all this mean ? ” de- 
manded Aunt Polly, hurriedly removing her hat, 
and trying to smooth back her disordered hair. 

“ No, no — please, Aunt Polly!” Pollyanna’s 
jubilant voice turned to one of distressed appeal. 
“ Don’t smooth ’em out ! It’s those that I’m talking 
about — those darling little black curls. Oh, Aunt 
Polly, they’re so pretty ! ” 

“ Nonsense! What do you mean, Pollyanna, by 
going to the Ladies’ Aid the other day in that ab- 
surd fashion about that beggar boy ? ” 

“ But it isn’t nonsense,” urged Pollyanna, an/ 
swering only the first of her aunt’s remarks. “ You 
don’t know how pretty you look with your hair like 
that! Oh, Aunt Polly, please, mayn’t I do your 
hair like I did Mrs. Snow’s, and put in a flower? 
I’d so love to see you that way! Why, you’d be 
ever so much prettier than she was ! ” 

“ Pollyanna ! ” (Miss Polly spoke very sharply 
— all the more sharply because Pollyanna’s words 
had given her an odd throb of joy: when before 


164 


Pollyanna 


had anybody cared how she, or her hair looked? 
When before had anybody “ loved ” to see her 
“ pretty n ?) “ Pollyanna, you did not answer my 
question. Why did you go to the Ladies’ Aid in 
that absurd fashion ? ” 

u Yes’m, I know; but, please, I didn’t know it 
was absurd until I went and found out they’d rather 
see their report grow than Jimmy. So then I wrote 
to my Ladies’ Aiders — ’cause Jimmy is far away 
from them, you know; and I thought maybe he 
could be their little India boy same as — Aunt 
Polly, was I your little India girl? And, Aunt 
Polly, you will let me do your hair, won’t 
you ? ” 

Aunt Polly put her hand to her throat — the old, 
helpless feeling was upon her, she knew. 

“ But, Pollyanna, when the ladies told me this 
afternoon how you came to them, I was so 
ashamed ! I — ” 

Pollyanna began to dance up and down lightly 
on her toes. 

“ You didn’t! — you didn’t say I couldn’t do 
your hair,” she crowed triumphantly; “ and so I’m 
sure it means just the other way ’round, sort of — 
like it did the other day about Mr. Pendleton’s jelly 
that you didn’t send, but didn’t want me to say you 



u ‘ OH, my! what pretty hair you’ve got.’ 99 


4 





A Red Rose and a Lace Shawl 165 


didn’t send, you know. Now wait just where you 
are. I’ll get a comb.” 

“ But Pollyanna, Pollyanna,” remonstrated Aunt 
Polly, following the little girl from the room and 
panting up-stairs after her. , 

“ Oh, did you come up here ? ” Pollyanna 
greeted her at the door of Miss Polly’s own room. 
“That’ll be nicer yet! I’ve got the comb. Now 
sit down, please, right here. Oh, I’m so glad you 
let me do it ! ” 

“ But, Pollyanna, I — I — ” 

Miss Polly did not finish her sentence. To her 
helpless amazement she found herself in the low 
chair before the dressing table, with her hair al- 
ready tumbling about her ears under ten eager, but| 
very gentle fingers. 

“ Oh, my ! what pretty hair you’ve got,” prattled 
Pollyanna ; “ and there’s so much more of it than 
Mrs. Snow has, too! But, of course, you need 
more, anyhow, because you’re well and can go to 
places where folks can see it. My ! I reckon folks’ll 
le glad when they do see it — and surprised, too, 
’cause you’ve hid it so long. Why, Aunt Polly, I’ll 
make you so pretty everybody’ll just love to look 
at you ! ” 

“ Pollyanna ! ” gasped a stifled but shocked voice 


166 


Pollyanna 


from a veil of hair. “ I — I’m sure I don’t know 
why I’m letting you do this silly thing.” 

“ Why, Aunt Polly, I should think you’d be glad 
to have folks like to look at you! Don’t you like 
to look at pretty things ? I’m ever so much happier 
when I look at pretty folks, ’cause when I look at 
the other kind I’m so sorry for them.” 

“ But — but — ” 

“ And I just love to do folks’ hair,” purred Polly- 
anna, contentedly. “ I did quite a lot of the Ladies’ 
Aiders’ — but there wasn’t any of them so nice as 
yours. Mrs. White’s was pretty nice, though, and 
she looked just lovely one day when I dressed her 
up in — Oh, Aunt Polly, I’ve just happened to 
think of something! But it’s a secret, and I sha’n’t 
tell. Now your hair is almost done, and pretty 
quick I’m going to leave you just a minute; and 
you must promise — promise — promise not to stir 
nor peek, even, till I come back. Now remember! ” 
she finished, as she ran from the room. 

Aloud Miss Polly said nothing. To herself she 
said that of course she should at once undo the 
absurd work of her niece’s fingers, and put her hair 
up properly again. As for “ peeking ” — just as if 
she cared how — 

At that moment — unaccountably — -Miss Polly 


A Red Rose and a Lace Shawl 167 


caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror of the 
dressing table. And what she saw sent such a flush 
of rosy color to her cheeks that — she only flushed 
the more at the sight. 

She saw a face — not young, it is true — but just 
now alight with excitement and surprise. The 
cheeks were a pretty pink. The eyes sparkled. The 
hair, dark, and still damp from the outdoor air, lay 
in loose waves about the forehead and curved back 
over the ears in wonderfully becoming lines, with 
softening little curls here and there. 

So amazed and so absorbed was Miss Polly with 
what she saw in the glass that she quite forgot her 
determination to do over her hair, until she heard 
Pollyanna enter the room again. Before she could 
move, then, she felt a folded something slipped 
across her eyes and tied in the back. 

“ Pollyanna, Pollyanna ! What are you doing ? ” 
she cried. 

Pollyanna chuckled. 

“ That’s just what I don’t want you to know, 
Aunt Polly, and I was afraid you would peek, so 
I tied on the handkerchief. Now sit still. It won’t 
take but just a minute, then I’ll let you see.” 

“ But, Pollyanna,” began Miss Polly, struggling 
blindly to her feet, “ you must take this off ! You 


168 


Pollyanna 


— child, child! what are you doing? ” she gasped, 
as she felt a soft something slipped about her 
shoulders. 

Pollyanna only chuckled the more gleefully. 
With trembling fingers she was draping about her 
aunt’s shoulders the fleecy folds of a beautiful lace 
shawl, yellowed from long years of packing away, 
and fragrant with lavender. Pollyanna had found 
the shawl the week before when Nancy had been 
regulating the attic; and it had occurred to her 
to-day that there was no reason why her aunt, as 
well as Mrs. White of her Western home, should 
not be “ dressed up.” 

Her task completed, Pollyanna surveyed her work 
with eyes that approved, but that saw yet one touch 
wanting. Promptly, therefore, she pulled her aunt 
toward the sun parlor where she could see a belated 
red rose blooming on the trellis within reach of her 
hand. 

“ Pollyanna, what are you doing ? Where are 
you taking me to ? ” recoiled Aunt Polly, vainly 
trying to hold herself back. “ Pollyanna, I shall 
not — ” 

“ It’s just to the sun parlor — only a minute! 
I’ll have you ready now quicker’n no time,” panted 
Pollyanna, reaching for the rose and thrusting it 


A Bed Rose and a Lace Shawl 169 


into the soft hair above Miss Polly’s left ear. 
“ There ! ” she exulted, untying the knot of the 
handkerchief and flinging the bit of linen far from 
her. “ Oh, Aunt Polly, now I reckon you’ll be glad 
I dressed you up ! ” 

For one dazed moment Miss Polly looked at her 
bedecked self, and at her surroundings; then she 
gave a low cry and fled to her room. Pollyanna, 
following the direction of her aunt’s last dismayed 
gaze, saw, through the open windows of the sun 
parlor, the horse and gig turning into the driveway. 
She recognized at once the man who held the reins. 

Delightedly she leaned forward. 

“ Dr. Chilton, Dr. Chilton ! Did you want to see 
me? Pm up here.” 

“ Yes,” smiled the doctor, a little gravely. “ Will 
you come down, please?” 

In the bedroom Pollyanna found a flushed- faced, 
angry-eyed woman plucking at the pins that held 
a lace shawl in place. 

“ Pollyanna, how could you ? ” moaned the 
woman. “ To think of your rigging me up like this, 
and then letting me — be seen! ” 

Pollyanna stopped in dismay. 

“ But you looked lovely — perfectly lovely, Aunt 
Polly; and — ” 


170 


Pollyanna 


“ ‘ Lovely ’ ! ” scorned the woman, flinging the 
shawl to one side and attacking her hair with 
shaking fingers. 

“ Oh, Aunt Polly, please, please let the hair — 
stay ! ” 

“Stay? Like this? As if I would ! ” And Miss 
Polly pulled the locks so tightly back that the last 
curl lay stretched dead at the ends of her fingers. 

“ O dear ! And you did look so pretty,” almost 
sobbed Pollyanna, as she stumbled through the door. 

Down-stairs Pollyanna found the doctor waiting 
in his gig. 

“ Pve prescribed you for a patient, and he’s sent 
me to get the prescription filled,” announced the 
doctor. “ Will you go? ” 

“ You mean — an errand — to the drug store? ” 
asked Pollyanna, a little uncertainly. “ I used to go 
some — for the Ladies’ Aiders.” 

The doctor shook his head with a smile. 

“ Not exactly. It’s Mr. John Pendleton. He 
would like to see you to-day, if you’ll be so good 
as to come. It’s stopped raining, so I drove down 
after you. Will you come?' I’ll call for you and 
bring you back before six o’clock.” 

“ I’d love to ! ” exclaimed Pollyanna. “ Let me 
ask Aunt Polly.” 


A Red Rose and a Lace Shawl 171 


In a few moments she returned, hat in hand, but 
with rather a sober face. 

“ Didn’t — your aunt want you to go ? ” asked 
the doctor, a little diffidently, as they drove 
away. 

“ Y-yes,” sighed Pollyanna. “ She — she wanted 
me to go too much, I’m afraid.” 

“ Wanted you to go too much!” 

Pollyanna sighed again. 

“ Yes. I reckon she meant she didn’t want me 
there. You see, she said : ‘ Yes, yes, run along, run 
along — do! I wish you’d gone before.’” 

The doctor smiled — but with his lips only. His 
eyes were very grave. For some time he said noth- 
ing; then, a little hesitatingly, he asked: 

“ Wasn’t it — your aunt I saw with you a few 
minutes ago — in the window of the sun parlor ? ’* 

Pollyanna drew a long breath. 

“Yes; that’s what’s the whole trouble, I sup- 
pose. You see I’d dressed her up in a perfectly 
lovely lace shawl I found up-stairs, and I’d fixed her 
hair and put on a rose, and she looked so pretty. 
Didn’t you think she looked just lovely? ” 

For a moment the doctor did not answer. When 
he did speak his voice was so low Pollyanna could 
but just hear the words. 


172 


Pollyanna 


“ Yes, Pollyanna, I — I thought she did look — 
just lovely.” 

“ Did you? I’m so glad! I’ll tell her,” nodded 
the little girl, contentedly. 

To her surprise the doctor gave a sudden excla- 
mation. 

“ Never ! Pollyanna, I — I’m afraid I shall have 
to ask you not to tell her — that.” • 

“ Why, Dr. Chilton ! Why not ? I should think 
you’d be glad — ” 

“ But she might not be,” cut in the doctor. 

Pollyanna considered this for a moment. 

“ That’s so — maybe she wouldn’t,” she sighed. 
“ I remember now ; ’twas ’cause she saw you that 
she ran. And she — she spoke afterwards about 
her being seen in that rig.” 

“ I thought as much,” declared the doctor, under 
his breath. 

“ Still, I don’t see why,” maintained Pollyanna, 
“ — when she looked so pretty •! ” 

The doctor said nothing. He did not speak 
again, indeed, until they were almost to the great 
stone house in which John Pendleton lay with a 
broken leg. 


CHAPTER XVII 


JUST LIKE A BOOK 

John Pendleton greeted Pollyanna to-day with 
a smile. 

“Well, Miss Pollyanna, I’m thinking you must 
be a very forgiving little person, else you wouldn’t 
have come to see me again to-day.” 

“ Why, Mr. Pendleton, I was real glad to come, 
and I’m sure I don’t see why I shouldn’t be, either.” 

“ Oh, well, you know, I was pretty cross with 
you, I’m afraid, both the other day when you so 
kindly brought me the jelly, and that time when 
you found me with the broken leg at first. By the 
way, too, I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for 
that. Now I’m sure that even you would admit that 
you were very forgiving to come and see me, after 
such ungrateful treatment as that ! ” 

Pollyanna stirred uneasily. 

“ But I was glad to find you — that is, I don’t 
mean I was glad your leg was broken, of course,” 
she corrected hurriedly. 


173 


174 


Pollyanna 


John Pendleton smiled. 

“ I understand. Your tongue does get away with 
you once in a while, doesn’t it, Miss Pollyanna? I 
do thank you, however; and I consider you a very 
brave little girl to do what you did that day. I 
thank you for the jelly, too,” he added in a lighter 
voice. 

“ Did you like it? ” asked Pollyanna with interest. 

“ Very much. I suppose — there isn’t any more 
to-day that — that Aunt Polly didn't send, is 
there?” he asked with an odd smile. 

His visitor looked distressed. 

“ N-no, sir.” She hesitated, then went on with 
heightened color. “ Please, Mr. Pendleton, I didn’t 
mean to be rude the other day when I said Aunt 
Polly did not send the jelly.” 

There was no answer. John Pendleton was not 
smiling now. He was looking straight ahead of 
him with eyes that seemed to be gazing through and 
beyond the object before them. After a time he 
drew a long sigh and turned to Pollyanna. When 
he spoke his voice carried the old nervous fretful- 
ness. 

“ Well, well, this will never do at all ! I didn’t 
send for you to see me moping this time. Listen! 
Out in the library — the big room where the tele- 


“ Just Like a Book ” 


175 


phone is, you know — you will find a carved box 
on the lower shelf of the big case with glass doors 
in the corner not far from the fireplace. That is, 
it’ll be there if that confounded woman hasn’t 
‘ regulated ’ it to somewhere else! You may bring 
it to me. It is heavy, but not too heavy for you to 
carry, I think.” 

“ Oh, I’m awfully strong,” declared Pollyanna, 
cheerfully, as she sprang to her feet. In a minute 
she had returned with the box. 

It was a wonderful half-hour that Pollyanna 
spent then. The box was full of treasures — curios 
that John Pendleton had picked up in years of travel 
— and concerning each there was some entertaining 
story, whether it were a set of exquisitely carved 
chessmen from China, or a little jade idol from 
India. 

It was after she had heard the story about the 
idol that Pollyanna murmured wistfully: 

“ Well, I suppose it would be better to take a little 
boy in India to bring up — one that didn’t know 
any more than to think that God was in that doll- 
thing — than it would be to take Jimmy Bean, a 
little boy who knows God is up in the sky. Still, 
I can’t help wishing they had wanted Jimmy Bean* 
too, besides the India boys.” 


176 


Pollyanna 


John Pendleton did not seem to hear. Again his 
eyes were staring straight before him, looking at 
nothing. But soon he had roused himself, and had 
picked up another curio to talk about. 

The visit, certainly, was a delightful one, but 
before it was over, Pollyanna was realizing that 
they were talking about something besides the 
wonderful things in the beautiful carved box. They 
were talking of herself, of Nancy, o£ Aunt Polly, 
and of her daily life. They were talking, too, even 
of the life and home long ago in the far Western 
town. 

Not until it was nearly time for her to go, did 
the man say, in a voice Pollyanna had never before 
heard from stern John Pendleton: 

“ Little girl, I want you to come to see me often. 
Will you? Pm lonesome, and I need you. There’s 
another reason — and Pm going to tell you that, 
too. I thought, at first, after I found out who you 
were, the other day, that I didn’t want you to come 
any more. You reminded me of — of something 
I have tried for long years to forget. So I said to 
myself that I never wanted to see you again; and 
every day, when the doctor asked if I wouldn’t let 
him bring you to me, I said no. 

“ But after a time I found I was wanting to see 


“Just Like a Book ” 


177 


you so much that — that the fact that I wasn't see- 
ing you was making me remember all the more 
vividly the thing I was so wanting to forget. So 
now I want you to come. Will you — little girl? ” 

“ Why, yes, Mr. Pendleton,” breathed Pollyanna, 
her eyes luminous with sympathy for the sad-faced 
man lying back on the pillow before her. “ I’d love 
to come ! ” 

“ Thank you,” said John Pendleton, gently. 

After supper that evening, Pollyanna, sitting on 
the back porch, told Nancy all about Mr. John Pen- 
dleton’s wonderful carved box, and the still more 
wonderful things it contained. 

“ And ter think,” sighed Nancy, “ that he showed 
ye all them things, and told ye about ’em like that 
— him that’s so cross he never talks ter no one -— 
no one ! ” 

“ Oh, but he isn’t cross, Nancy, only outside, H 
demurred Pollyanna, with quick loyalty. “ I don’t 
see why everybody thinks he’s so bad, either. They 
wouldn’t, if they knew him. But even Aunt Polly 
doesn’t like him very well. She wouldn’t send the 
jelly to him, you know, and she was so afraid he’d 
think she did send it ! ” 

“ Probably she didn’t call him no duty ” shrugged 


178 


Pollyanna 


Nancy. “ Btit what beats me is how he happened 
ter take ter you so, Miss Pollyanna — meanin’ no 
offence ter you, of course — but he ain’t the sort o’ 
man what gen’rally takes ter kids; he ain’t, he 
ain’t.” 

Pollyanna smiled happily. 

“ But he did, Nancy,” she nodded, “ only I reckon 
even he didn’t want to — all the time. Why, only 
to-day he owned up that one time he just felt he 
never wanted to see me again, because I reminded 
him of something he wanted to forget. But after- 
wards — ” 

“ What’s that ? ” interrupted Nancy, excitedly. 
“ He said you reminded him of something he 
wanted to forget? ” 

“ Yes. But afterwards — ” 

“ What was it?” Nancy was eagerly insistent. 

“ He didn’t tell me. He just said it was some- 
thing.” 

“ The mystery !” breathed Nancy, in an awe- 
struck voice. “ That’s why he took to you in the 
first place. Oh, Miss Pollyanna! Why, that’s just 
like a book — • I’ve read lots of ’em; * Lady Maud’s 
Secret,’ and ‘ The Lost Heir,’ and ‘ Hidden for 
Years ’ — all of ’em had mysteries and things just 
^like this. My stars and stockings! Just think of 


/ 


s< Just Like a Book 99 


179 


havin’ a book lived right under yer nose like this — 
an’ me not knowin’ it all this time! Now tell me 
everythin’ — everythin’ he said, Miss Pollyanna, 
there’s a dear! No wonder he took ter you; no 
wonder — no wonder ! ” 

“ But he didn’t,” cried Pollyanna, “ not till I 
talked to him , first. And he didn’t even know who 
I was till I took the calf’s-foot jelly, and had to 
make him understand that Aunt Polly didn’t send 
it, and — ” 

Nancy sprang to her feet and clasped her hands 
together suddenly. 

“ Oh, Miss Pollyanna, I know, I know — I know 
I know ! ” she exulted rapturously. The next min- 
ute she was down at Pollyanna’s side again, “ Tell 
me — now think, and answer straight and true,” 
she urged excitedly. “ It was after he found out 
you was Miss Polly’s niece that he said he didn’t 
ever want ter see ye again, wa’n’t it?” 

“ Oh, yes. I told him that the last time I saw 
him, and he told me this to-day.” 

“ I thought as much,” triumphed Nancy. “ And 
Miss Polly wouldn’t send the jelly herself, would 
she?” 

“ No.” 

“ And you told him she didn’t send it?” 


180 


Pollyanna 


“ Why, yes ; I — ” 

“ And he began ter act queer and cry out sudden 
after he found out you was her niece. He did that, 
didn’t he? ” 

“ Why, y-yes ; he did act a little queer — over 
that jelly,” admitted Pollyanna, with a thoughtful 
frown. 

Nancy drew a long sigh. 

“ Then I’ve got it, sure! Now listen. Mr. John 
Pendleton was Miss Polly Harrington's lover!" 
she announced impressively, but with a furtive 
glance over her shoulder. 

“ Why, Nancy, he couldn’t be! She doesn’t like 
him,” objected Pollyanna. 

Nancy gave her a scornful glance. 

“Of course she don’t! That's the quarrel! ” 

Pollyanna still looked incredulous, and with an- 
other long breath Nancy happily settled herself to 
tell the story. 

“ It’s like this. Just before you come, Mr. Tom 
told me Miss Polly had had a lover once. I didn’t 
believe it. I couldn’t — her and a lover ! But Mr. 
Tom said she had, and that he was livin’ now right 
in this town. And now I know, of course. It’s 
John Pendleton. Hain’t he got a mystery in his 
life? Pon’t he shut himself up in that grand house 


“ Just Like a Book ” 


181 


alone, and never speak ter no one? Didn’t he act 
queer when he found out you was Miss Polly’s 
niece? And now hain’t he owned up that you re- 
mind him of somethin’ he wants ter forget? Just 
as if anybody couldn’t see ’twas Miss Polly ! — an’ 
her sayin’ she wouldn’t send him no jelly, too. 
Why, Miss Pollyanna, it’s as plain as the nose on 
yer face; it is, it is! ” 

“ Oh-h ! ” breathed Pollyanna, in wide-eyed 
amazement. “ But, Nancy, I should think if they 
loved each other they’d make up some time. Both 
of ’em all alone, so, all these years. I should think 
they’d be glad to make up ! ” 

Nancy sniffed disdainfully. 

“ I guess maybe you don’t know much about lov- 
ers, Miss Pollyanna. You ain’t big enough yet, 
anyhow. But if there is a set o’ folks in the world 
that wouldn’t have no use for that ’ere 4 glad game 9 
o’ your’n, it’d be a pair o’ quarrellin’ lovers; and 
that’s what they be. Ain’t he cross as sticks, most 
gen’rally ? — and ain’t she — ” 

Nancy stopped abruptly, remembering just in 
time to whom, and about whom, she was speaking. 
Suddenly, however, she chuckled. 

“ I ain’t sayin’, though, Miss Pollyanna, but what 
it would be a pretty slick piece of business if you 


ik 


m 


Pollyanna, 


could get ’em ter playin’ it — so they would be glad 
ter make up. But, my land! wouldn’t folks stare 
some — Miss Polly and him ! I guess, though, 
there ain’t much chance, much chance ! ” 

Pollyanna said nothing; but when she went into 
the house a little later, her face was very thought* 
fui. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


PRISMS 

As the warm August days passed, Pollyanna 
went very frequently to the great house on Pendle- 
ton Hill. She did not feel, however, that her visits 
were really a success. Not but that the man seemed 
to want her there — he sent for her, indeed, fre- 
quently; but that when she was there, he seemed 
scarcely any the happier for her presence — at least, 
so Pollyanna thought. 

He talked to her, it was true, and he showed her 
many strange and beautiful things — books, pic- 
tures, and curios. But he still fretted audibly over 
his own helplessness, and he chafed visibly under 
the rules and “ regulatings ” of the unwelcome 
members of his household. He did, indeed, seem 
to like to hear Pollyanna talk, however, and Polly- 
anna talked. Pollyanna liked to talk — but she was 
never sure that she would not look up and find him 
lying back on his pillow with that white, hurt look 
that always pained her; and she was never sure 
183 


184 


Pollyanna 


which — if any — of her words had brought it 
there. As for telling him the “ glad game,” and 
trying to get him to play it — Pollyanna had never 
seen the time yet when she thought he would care 
to hear about it. She had twice tried to tell him; 
but neither time had she got beyond the beginning 
of what her father had said — John Pendleton had 
on each occasion turned the conversation abruptly 
to another subject. 

Pollyanna never doubted now that John Pendle- 
ton was her Aunt Polly’s one-time lover; and with 
all the strength of her loving, loyal heart, she wished 
she could in some way bring happiness into their — 
to her mind — miserably lonely lives. 

Just how she was to do this, however, she could 
not see. She talked to Mr. Pendleton about her 
aunt; and he listened, sometimes politely, some- 
times irritably, frequently with a quizzical smile on 
his usually stern lips. She talked to her aunt about 
Mr. Pendleton — or rather, she tried to talk to her 
about him. As a general thing, however, Miss 
Polly would not listen — long. She always found 
something else to talk about. She frequently did 
that, however, when Pollyanna was talking of 
others — of Dr. Chilton, for instance. Pollyanna 
laid this, though, to the fact that it had been Dr, 


Prisms 


185 


Chilton who had seen her in the sun parlor with 
the rose in her hair and the lace shawl draped about 
her shoulders. Aunt Polly, indeed, seemed particu- 
larly bitter against Dr. Chilton, as Pollyanna found 
out one day when a hard cold shut her up in the 
house. 

“If you are not better by night I shall send for 
the doctor,” Aunt Polly said. 

“ Shall you? Then Pm going to be worse,” 
gurgled Pollyanna. “ I’d love to have Dr. Chilton 
come to see me ! ” 

She wondered, then, at the look that came to her 
aunt’s face. 

“ It will not be Dr. Chilton, Pollyanna,” Miss 
Polly said sternly. “ Dr. Chilton is not our family 
physician. I shall send for Dr. Warren — if you 
are worse.” 

Pollyanna did not grow worse, however, and Dr. 
Warren was not summoned. 

“ And I’m so glad, too,” Pollyanna said to her 
aunt that evening. “Of course I like Dr. Warren, 
and all that; but I like Dr. Chilton better, and I’m 
afraid he’d feel hurt if I didn’t have him. You see, 
he wasn’t really to blame, after all, that he happened 
to see you when I’d dressed you up so pretty that 
day. Aunt Polly,” she finished wistfully. 


186 


Pollyanna 


“ That will do, Pollyanna. I really do not wish 
to discuss Dr. Chilton — or his feelings,” reproved 
Miss Polly, decisively. 

Pollyanna looked at her for a moment with 
mournfully interested eyes; then she sighed: 

“ I just love to see you when your cheeks are 
pink like that, Aunt Polly; but I would so like to 
fix your hair. If — Why, Aunt Polly!” But 
her aunt was already out of sight down the 
hall. 

It was toward the end of August that Pollyanna, 
making an early morning call on John Pendleton, 
found the flaming band of blue and gold and green 
edged with red and violet lying across his pillow. 
She stopped short in awed delight. 

“ Why, Mr. Pendleton, it’s a baby rainbow — a 
real rainbow come in to pay you a visit! ” she ex- 
claimed, clapping her hands together softly. “ Oh 
— oh — oh, how pretty it is ! But how did it get 
in ? ” she cried. 

The man laughed a little grimly: John Pendle- 
ton was particularly out of sorts with the world this 
morning. 

“ Well, I suppose it ‘ got in ’ through the bevelled 
edge of that glass thermometer in the window,” he 


Prisms 


187 


said wearily. “ The sun shouldn’t strike it at all — 
but it does in the morning.” 

“ Oh, but it’s so pretty, Mr. Pendleton ! And 
does just the sun do that? My! if it was mine I-’d 
have it hang in the sun all day long ! ” 

“ Lots of good you’d get out of the thermometer, 
then,” laughed the man. “ How do you suppose 
you could tell how hot it was, or how cold it was, 
if the thermometer hung in the sun all day? ” 

“ I shouldn’t care,” breathed Pollyanna, her fas- 
cinated eyes on the brilliant band of colors across 
the pillow. “ Just as if anybody’d care — when 
they were living all the time in a rainbow ! ” 

The man laughed. He was watching Polly- 
anna’s rapt face a little curiously. Suddenly a new 
thought came to him. He touched the bell at his 
side. 

“ Nora,” he said, when the elderly maid appeared 
at the door, “ bring me one of the big brass candle- 
sticks from the mantel in the front drawing-room.” 

“ Yes, sir,” murmured the woman, looking 
slightly dazed. In a minute she had returned. A 
musical tinkling entered the room with her as she 
advanced wonderingly toward the bed. It came 
from the prism pendants encircling the old-fash- 
ioned candelabrum in her hand. 


188 


Pollyanna 


“ Thank you. You may set it here on the stand,” 
directed the man. “ Now get a string and fasten 
it to the sash-curtain fixtures of that window 
there. Take down the sash-curtain, and let the 
string reach straight across the window from 
side to side. That will be all. Thank you,” 
he said, when she had carried out his direc- 
tions. 

As she left the room he turned smiling eyes 
toward the wondering Pollyanna. 

“ Bring me the candlestick now, please, Polly- 
anna.” 

With both hands she brought it; and in a mo- 
ment he was slipping off the pendants, one by one, 
until they lay, a round dozen of them, side by side, 
on the bed. 

“ Now, my dear, suppose you take them and 
hook them to that little string Nora fixed across the 
window. If you really want to live in a rainbow — 
I don’t see but we’ll have to have a rainbow for you 
to live in ! ” 

Pollyanna had not hung up three of the pendants 
in the sunlit window before she saw a little of what 
was going to happen. She was so excited then she 
could scarcely' control her shaking fingers enough 
to hang up the rest. But at last her task was fin- 


Prisms 


189 


ished, and she stepped back with a low cry of de- 
light. 

It had become a fairyland — that sumptuous, but 
dreary bedroom. Everywhere were bits of dancing 
red and green, violet and orange, gold and blue. 
The wall, the floor, and the furniture, even to the 
bed itself, were aflame with shimmering bits of 
color. 

“ Oh, oh, oh, how lovely ! ” breathed Pollyanna ; 
then she laughed suddenly. “ I just reckon the 
sun himself is trying to play the game now, don’t 
you ? ” she cried, forgetting for the moment that 
Mr. Pendleton could not know what she was talk- 
ing about. “ Oh, how I wish I had a lot of those 
things! How I would like to give them to Aunt 
Polly and Mrs. Snow and — lots of folks. I reckon 
then they’d be glad all right ! Why, I think even 
Aunt Polly’d get so glad she couldn’t help banging 
doors — if she lived in a rainbow like that. Don’t 
you? ” 

Mr. Pendleton laughed. 

u Well, from my remembrance of your aunt, Miss 
Pollyanna, I must say I think it would take some- 
thing more than a few prisms in the sunlight to — 
to make her bang many doors — for gladness. But 
come, now, really, what do you mean ? ” 


190 


Pollyanna 


Pollyanna stared slightly; then she drew a long 
breath. 

“ Oh, I forgot. You don’t know about the game. 
I remember now/’ 

“ Suppose you tell me, then.” 

And this time Pollyanna told him. She told him 
the whole thing from the very first — from the 
crutches that should have been a doll. As she 
talked, she did not look at his face. Her rapt eyes 
were still on the dancing flecks of color from the 
prism pendants swaying in the sunlit window. 

“ And that’s all,” she sighed, when she had fin- 
ished. “ And now you know why I said the sun 
was trying to play it — that game.” 

For a moment there was silence. Then a low 
voice from the bed said unsteadily: 

“ Perhaps; but Pm thinking that the very finest 
prism of them all is yourself, Pollyanna.” 

“ Oh, but I don’t show beautiful red and green 
and purple when the sun shines through me, Mr. 
Pendleton ! ” 

“ Don’t you ? ” smiled the man. And Pollyanna, 
looking into his face, wondered why there were 
tears in his eyes. 

“ No,” she said. Then, after a minute she added 
mournfully : “ Pm afraid, Mr. Pendleton, the sun 


Prisms 


191 


doesn’t make anything but freckles — out of me. 
Aunt Polly says it does make them ! ” 

The man laughed a little; and again Pollyanna 
looked at him: the laugh had sounded almost like 
a sob. 


CHAPTER XIX 


WHICH IS SOMEWHAT SURPRISING 

Pollyanna entered school in September. Pre- 
liminary examinations showed that she was well 
advanced for a girl of her years, and she was soon 
a happy member ©f a class of girls and boys her 
own age. 

School, in some ways, was a surprise to Tolly- 
anna ; and Pollyanna, certainly, in many ways, was 
very much of a surprise to school. They were soon 
on the best of terms, however, and to her aunt 
Pollyanna confessed that going to school zms liv- 
ing, after all — though she had had her doubts 
before. 

In spite of her delight ifi her new work, Polly- 
anna did not forget her old friends. True, she 
could not give them quite so much time now, of 
course; but she gave them what time she could. 
Perhaps John Pendleton, of them all, however, was 
the most dissatisfied. 

One Saturday afternoon he spoke to her about it. 

192 


Which Is Somewhat Surprising 193 


“ See here, Pollyanna, how would you like to 
come and live with me?” he asked, a little impa- 
tiently. “ I don’t see anything of you, nowa- 
days.” 

Pollyanna laughed — Mr. Pendleton was such a 
funny man ! 

“ I thought you didn’t like to have folks ’round,” 
she said. 

He made a wry face. 

“ Oh, but that was before you taught me to play 
that wonderful game of yours. Now Pm glad to 
be waited on, hand and foot! Never mind, I’ll be 
on my own two feet yet, one of these days; then 
I’ll see who steps around,” he finished, picking up 
one of the crutches at his side and shaking it play- 
fully at the little girl. They were sitting in the 
great library to-day. 

“ Oh, but you aren’t really glad at all for things ; 
you just say you are,” pouted Pollyanna, her eyes 
on the dog, dozing before the fire. “ You know 
you don’t play the game right ever, Mr, Pendleton 
— you know you don’t!” 

The man’s face grew suddenly very grave. 

“ That’s why I want you, little girl — to help me 
'>lay it. Will you come?” 

Pollyanna turned in surprise. 


194 


Pollyanna 


“ Mr. Pendleton, you don’t really mean — that? ” 

“ But I do. I want you. Will you come? ” 

Pollyanna looked distressed. 

“ Why, Mr. Pendleton, I can’t — you know I 
can’t. Why, I’m — Aunt Polly’s ! ” 

A quick something crossed the man’s face that 
Pollyanna could not quite understand. His head 
came up almost fiercely. 

“ You’re no more hers than — Perhaps she 
would let you come to me,” he finished more gently. 
“ Would you come — if she did ? ” 

Pollyanna frowned in deep thought. 

“ But Aunt Polly has been so — good to me,” 
she began slowly ; “ and she took me when I 
didn’t have anybody left but the Ladies’ Aid, 
and — ” 

Again that spasm of something crossed the man’s 
face; but this time, when he spoke, his voice was 
low and very sad. 

“ Pollyanna, long years ago I loved somebody 
very much. I hoped to bring her, some day, to this 
house. I pictured how happy we’d be together in 
our home all the long years to come.” 

“ Yes,” pitied Pollyanna, her eyes shining with 
sympathy. 

“ But — well, I didn’t bring her here. Never 


Which Is Somewhat Surprising 195 


mind why. I just didn’t — that’s all. And ever 
since then this great gray pile of stone has been a 
house — never a home. It takes a woman’s hand 
and heart, or a child’s presence, to make a home, 
Pollyanna; and I have not had either. Now will 
you come, my dear? ” 

Pollyanna sprang to her feet. Pier face was 
fairly illumined. 

“ Mr. Pendleton, you — you mean that you wish 
you — you had had that woman’s hand and heart 
all this time ? ” 

w Why, y-yes, Pollyanna.” 

“ Oh, I’m so glad ! Then it’s all right,” sighed 
the little girl. “ Now you can take us both, and 
everything will be lovely.” 

“ Take — you — both ? ” repeated the man, 

dazedly. 

A faint doubt crossed Pollyanna’s countenance. 

“ Well, of course, Aunt Polly isn’t won over, 
yet; but I’m sure she will be if you tell it to her 
just as you did to me, and then we’d both come, 
of course.” 

A look of actual terror leaped to the man’s eyes. 

“ Aunt Polly come — here! ” 

Pollyanna’s eyes widened a little. 

“ Would you rather go there?” she asked. " Of 


196 


Pollyanna 


course the house isn’t quite so pretty, but it’s 
nearer — ” 

“Pollyanna, what are you talking about ?” 
asked the man, very gently now. 

“ Why, about where we’re going to live, of 
course,” rejoined Pollyanna, in obvious surprise. 
“ I thought you meant here, at first. You said it 
was here that you had wanted Aunt Polly’s hand 
and heart all these years to make a home, and — ” 

An inarticulate cry came from the man’s throat. 
He raised his hand and began to speak; but the 
next moment he dropped his hand nervelessly at his 
side. 

“ The doctor, sir,” said the maid in the doorway. 

Pollyanna rose at once. 

John Pendleton turned to her feverishly. 

“ Pollyanna, for Heaven’s sake, say nothing of 
what I asked you — yet,” he begged, in a low voice. 

Pollyanna dimpled into a sunny smile. 

“ Of course not! Just as if I didn’t know you’d 
rather tell her yourself ! ” she called back merrily 
over her shoulder. 

John Pendleton fell limply back in his chair. 

“ Why, what’s up ? ” demanded the doctor, a 
minute later, his fingers on his patient’s galloping 
pulse. 


Which Is Somewhat Surprising 197 


A whimsical smile trembled on John Pendleton’s 
lips. 

“ Overdose of your — tonic, I guess,” he laughed, 
as he noted the doctor’s eyes following Pollyanna’s 
little figure down the driveway. 


CHAPTER XX 


WHICH IS MORE SURPRISING 

Sunday mornings Pollyanna usually attended 
church and Sunday school. Sunday afternoons she 
frequently went for a walk with Nancy. She had 
planned one for the day after her Saturday after- 
noon visit to' Mr. John Pendleton; but on the way 
home from Sunday school Dr. Chilton overtook her 
in his gig, and brought his horse to a stop. 

“ Suppose you let me drive you home, Polly- 
anna, ” he suggested. “ I want to speak to you a 
minute. I was just driving out to your place to 
tell you,” he went on, as Pollyanna settled herself 
at his side. “ Mr. Pendleton sent a special request 
for you to go to see him this afternoon, sure. He 
says it’s very important.” 

Pollyanna nodded happily. 

“ Yes, it is, I know. I’ll go.” 

The doctor eyed her with some surprise. 

“ I’m not sure I shall let you, after all,” he de- 
clared, his eyes twinkling. “ You seemed more 
upsetting than soothing yesterday, young lady.” 

198 


Which Is More Surprising 


199 


Pollyanna laughed. 

“ Oh, it wasn’t me, truly — not really, you know ; 
not so much as it was Aunt Polly.” 

The doctor turned with a quick star L. 

“ Your — aunt! ” he ejaculated. 

Pollyanna gave a happy little bounce in her seat. 

“ Yes. And it’s so exciting and lovely, just like 
a story, you know. I — Pm going to tell you,” 
she burst out, with sudden decision. “ He said not 
to mention it ; but he wouldn’t mind your knowing r 
of course. He meant not to mention it to her” 

“Her?” 

“Yes; Aunt Polly. And, of course he would 
want to tell her himself instead of having me d<? 
it — lovers, so ! ” 

“ Lovers ! ” As the doctor said the word, the 
horse started violently, as if the hand that held the 
reins had given them a sharp jerk. 

“ Yes,” nodded Pollyanna, happily. “ That’s the 
story-part, you see. I didn’t know it till Nancy told 
me. She said Aunt Polly had a lover years ago, 
and they quarrelled. She didn’t know who it was 
at first. But we’ve found out now. It’s Mr. Pen- 
dleton, you know.” 

The doctor relaxed suddenly. The hand holding 
the reins fell limply to his lap. 


200 


Pollyanna 


“Oh! No; I — didn’t know,” he said quietly. 

Pollyanna hurried on — they were nearing the 
Harrington homestead. 

“Yes; and I’m so glad now. It’s come out 
lovely. Mr. Pendleton asked me to come and live 
with him, but of course I wouldn’t leave Aunt Polly 
like that — after she’d been so good to me. Then 
he told me all about the woman’s hand and heart 
that he used to want, and I found out that he 
wanted it now; and I was so glad! For of course 
if he wants to make up the quarrel, everything will 
be all right now, and Aunt Polly and I will both 
go to live there, or else he’ll come to live with us. 
Of course Aunt Polly doesn’t know yet, and we 
haven’t got everything settled; so I suppose that 
is why he wanted to see me this afternoon, sure.” 

The doctor sat suddenly erect. There was an 
odd smile on his lips. 

“ Yes; I can well imagine that Mr. John Pendle- 
ton does — want to see you, Pollyanna,” he nodded, 
as he pulled his horse to a stop before the door. 

“ There’s Aunt Polly now in the window,” cried 
Pollyanna ; then, a second later : “ Why, no, she 
isn’t — but I thought I saw her ! ” 

“No; she isn’t there — now,” said the doctor. 
His lips had suddenly lost their smile* 


Which Is More Surprising 201 


Pollyanna found a very nervous John Pendleton 
waiting for her that afternoon. 

“ Pollyanna,” he began at once. “ Pve been try- 
ing all night to puzzle out what you meant by all 
that, yesterday — about my wanting your Aunt 
Polly’s hand and heart here all those years. What 
did you mean ? ” 

“ Why, because you were lovers, you know — 
once; and I was so glad you still felt that way 
now.” 

“ Lovers ! — your Aunt Polly and I ? ” 

At the obvious surprise in the man’s voice, Polly- 
tanna opened wide her eyes. 

“ Why, Mr. Pendleton, Nancy said you were!” 

The man gave a short little laugh. 

“ Indeed! Well, I’m afraid I shall have to say 
that Nancy — didn’t know.” 

“ Then you — weren’t lovers ? ” Pollyanna’* 
voice was tragic with dismay. 

“ Never!” 

“ And it isn't all coming out like a book ? ” 

There was no answer. The man’s eyes were 
moodily fixed out the window. 

“ O dear ! And it was all going so splendidly,” 
almost sobbed Pollyanna. “ I’d have been so glad 
to come — with Aunt Polly.” 


m 


Pollyanna 


“ And you won’t — now ? ” The man asked the 
question without turning his head. 

“ Of course not ! I’m Aunt Polly’s. ,, 

The man turned now, almost fiercely. 

“ Before you were hers, Pollyanna, you were — 
your mother’s. And — it was your mother’s hand 
and heart that I wanted long years ago.” 

u My mother’s ! ” 

“ Yes. I had not meant to tell you, but perhaps 
it’s better, after all, that I do — now.” John Pen- 
dleton’s face had grown very white. He was speak- 
ing with evident difficulty. Pollyanna, her eyes 
wide and frightened, and her lips parted, was ga- 
zing at him fixedly. “ I loved your mother ; but 
she — didn’t love me. And after a time she went 
away with — your father. I did not know until 
then how much I did — care. The whole world 
suddenly seemed to turn black under my fingers, 
and — But, never mind. For long years I have 
been a cross, crabbed, unlovable, unloved old man 
— though I’m not nearly sixty, yet, Pollyanna. 
Then, one day, like one of the prisms that you love 
so well, little girl, you danced into my life, and 
flecked my dreary old world with dashes of the 
purple and gold and scarlet of your own nrignt 
cheeriness. I found out, after a time, who you 


Which Is More Surprising 203 


were, and — and I thought then I never wanted 
to see you again. I didn’t want to be reminded 
of — your mother. But — you know how that 
came out. I just had to have you come. And now 
I want you always. Pollyanna, won’t you come — 
now ? ” 

“ But, Mr. Pendleton, I — There’s Aunt 
Polly ! ” Pollyanna’s eyes were blurred with tears. 

The man made an impatient gesture. 

“ What about me ? How do you suppose Pm 
going to be ‘ glad ’ about anything — without you? 
Why, Pollyanna, it’s only since you came that I’ve 
been even half glad to live! But if I had you for 
my own little girl, I’d be glad for — anything; 
and I’d try to make you glad, too, my dear. You 
shouldn’t have a wish ungratified. All my money, 
to the last cent, should go to make you happy.” 

Pollyanna looked shocked. 

“ Why, Mr. Pendleton, as if I’d let you spend 
it on me — all that money you’ve saved for the 
heathen ! ” 

A dull red came to the man’s face. He started 
to speak, but Pollyanna was still talking. 

“ Besides, anybody with such a lot of money as 
you have doesn’t need me to make you glad about 
things. You’re making other folks so glad giving 


204 


Pollyanna 


them things that you just can’t help being glad 
yourself ! Why, look at those prisms you gave Mrs. 
Snow and me, and the gold piece you gave Nancy 
on her birthday, and — ” 

“ Yes, yes — never mind about all that,” inter- 
rupted the man. His face was very, very red now 
— and no wonder, perhaps : it was not for “ giv- 
ing things ” that John Pendleton had been best 
known in the past. “ That’s all nonsense. ’Twasn’t 
much, anyhow — but what there was, was because 
of you. You gave those things; not I! Yes, you 
did,” he repeated, in answer to the shocked denial 
in her face. “ And that only goes to prove all the 
more how I need you, little girl,” he added, his 
voice softening into tender pleading once' more. 
“ If ever, ever I am to play the ‘ glad game/ Polly- 
anna, you’ll have to come and play it with me.” 

The little girl’s forehead puckered into a wistful 
frown. 

“ Aunt Polly has been so good to me,” she began ; 
but the man interrupted her sharply. The old irri- 
tability had come back to his face. Impatience 
which would brook no opposition had been a part 
of John Pendleton’s nature too long to yield very 
easily now to restraint. 

“Of course she’s been good to you! But she; 


Which Is More Surprising 


20 5 


doesn’t want you, I’ll warrant, half so much as I 
do,” he contested. 

“ Why, Mr. Pendleton, she’s glad, I know, to 
have — ” 

“ Glad ! ” interrupted the man, thoroughly losing 
his patience now. “ I’ll wager Miss Polly doesn’t 
know how to be glad — for anything ! Oh, she 
does her duty, I know. She’s a very dutiful woman. 
I’ve had experience with her ‘ duty,’ before. I’ll 
acknowledge we haven’t been the best of friends 
for the last fifteen or twenty years. But I know 
her. Every one knows her — and she isn’t the 
* glad ’ kind, Pollyanna. She doesn’t know how to 
be. As for your coming to me — you just ask her 
and see if she won’t let you come. And, oh, little 
girl, little girl, I want you so ! ” he finished bro- 
kenly. 

Pollyanna rose to her feet with a long sigh. 

“ All right. I’ll ask her,” she said wistfully. 
“ Of course I don’t mean that I wouldn’t like to 
live here with you, Mr. Pendleton, but — ” She 
did not complete her sentence. There was a mo- 
ment’s silence, then she added : “ Well, anyhow. 
I’m glad I didn’t tell her yesterday ; — ’cause then 
I supposed she was wanted, too.” 

John Pendleton smiled grimly. 


206 


Pollyanna 


“ Well, yes, Pollyanna; I guess it is just as well 
you didn’t mention it — yesterday.” 

“I didn’t — only to the doctor; and of course 
he doesn’t count.” 

“The doctor!” cried John Pendleton, turning 
quickly. “ Not — Dr. — Chilton ? ” 

“Yes; when he came to tell me you wanted to 
see me to-day, you know.” 

“ Well, of all the — ” muttered the man, falling 
back in his chair. Then he sat up with sudden in- 
terest. “ And what did Dr. Chilton say ? ” he 
asked. 

Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully. 

“ Why, I don’t remember. Not much, I reckon. 
Oh, he did say he could well imagine you did want 
to see me.” 

“ Oh, did he, indeed ! ” answered John Pendleton. 
And Pollyanna wondered why he gave that sudden 
queer little laugh. 


CHAPTER XXI 


A QUESTION ANSWERED 

The sky was darkening fast with what appeared 
to be an approaching thunder shower when Polly- 
anna hurried down the hill from John Pendleton’s 
house. Half-way home she met Nancy with an 
umbrella. By that time, however, the clouds had 
shifted their position and the shower was not so 
imminent. 

“ Guess it’s goin’ ’round ter the north,” an- 
nounced Nancy, eyeing the sky critically. “ I 
thought ’twas, all the time, but Miss Polly wanted 
me ter come with this. She was worried about 
ye!” 

“ Was she ? ” murmured Pollyanna abstractedly, 
eyeing the clouds in her turn. 

Nancy sniffed a little. 

“ You don’t seem ter notice what I said,” she 
observed aggrievedly. “ I said yer aunt was wor- 
ried about ye ! ” 

“ Oh,” sighed Pollyanna, remembering suddenly 
207 


20S 


Pollyanna 


the question she was so soon to ask her aunt. “ I’m 
sorry. I didn’t mean to scare her.” 

“ Well, I’m glad,” retorted Nancy, unexpectedly. 
“ I am, I am.” 

Pollyanna stared. 

“ Glad that Aunt Polly was scared about me ! 
Why, Nancy, that isn’t the way to play the game 
— to be glad for things like that! ” she objected. 

“ There wa’n’t no game in it,” retorted Nancy. 
“ Never thought of it. You don’t seem ter sense 
what it means ter have Miss Polly worried about 
ye, child!” 

“ Why, it means worried — and worried is hor- 
rid — to feel,” maintained Pollyanna. “ What else 
can it mean ? ” 

Nancy tossed her head. 

“ Well, I’ll tell ye what it means. It means she’s 
at last gettin’ down somewheres near human — 
like folks; an’ that she ain’t jest doin’ her duty by 
ye all the time.” 

“ Why, Nancy,” demurred the scandalized Pol- 
lyanna, “ Aunt Polly always does her duty. She — 
she’s a very dutiful woman ! ” Unconsciously Pol- 
lyanna repeated John Pendleton’s words of half an 
hour before. 

Nancy chuckled. 


A Question Answered 


209 


“ You’re right she is — and she always was, I 
guess! But she’s somethin’ more, now, since you 
came.” 

Pollyanna’s face changed. Her brows drew into 
a troubled frown. 

“ There, that’s what I was going to ask you, 
Nancy,” she sighed. “ Do you think Aunt Polly 
likes to have me here? Would she mind — if — 
if I wasn’t here any more ? ” 

Nancy threw a quick look into the little girl’s 
absorbed face. She had expected to be asked this 
question long before, and she had dreaded it. She 
had wondered how she should answer it — how 
she could answer it honestly without cruelly hurting 
the questioner. But now, now , in the face of the 
new suspicions that had become convictions by the 
afternoon’s umbrella-sending — Nancy only wel- 
comed the question with open arms. She was sure 
that, with a clean conscience to-day, she could set 
the love-hungry little girl’s heart at rest. 

“ Likes ter have ye here? Would she miss ye 
if ye wa’n’t here? ” cried Nancy, indignantly. “ As 
if that wa’n’t jest what I was tellin’ of ye! Didn’t 
she send me posthaste with an umbrella ’cause she 
see a little cloud in the sky? Didn’t she make me 
tote yer things all down-stairs, so you could have 


210 


Pollyanna 


the pretty room you wanted? Why, Miss Polly- 
anna, when ye remember how at first she hated ter 
have — ” 

With a choking cough Nancy pulled herself up 
just in time. 

“ And it ain’t jest things I can put my fingers 
on, neither,” rushed on Nancy, breathlessly. “ It’s 
little ways she has, that shows how you’ve been 
softenin’ her up an’ mellerin’ her down — the cat, 
and the dog, and the way she speaks ter me, and — 
oh, lots o’ things. Why, Miss Pollyanna, there 
ain’t no tellin’ how she’d miss ye — if ye wa’n’t 
here,” finished Nancy, speaking with an enthusiastic 
certainty that was meant to hide the perilous admis- 
sion she had almost made before. Even then she 
was not quite prepared for the sudden joy that 
illumined Pollyanna’s face. 

“Oh, Nancy, I’m so glad — glad — glad! You 
don’t know how glad I am that Aunt Polly — wants 
me! ” 

“As if I’d leave her now ! ” thought Pollyanna, 
as she climbed the stairs to her room a little later. 
“ I always knew I wanted to live with Aunt Polly 
— but I reckon maybe I didn’t know quite how 
much I wanted Aunt Polly — to want to live with 
me! ” 


A Question Answered 


211 


The task of telling John Pendleton of her de- 
cision would not be an easy one, Pollyanna knew, 
and she dreaded it. She was very fond of John 
Pendleton, and she was very sorry for him — be- 
cause he seemed to be so sorry for himself. She 
was sorry, too, for the long, lonely life that had 
made him so unhappy; and she was grieved that 
it had been because of her mother that he had spent 
those dreary years. She pictured the great gray 
house as it would be after its master was well again, 
with its silent rooms, its littered floors, its disor- 
dered desk; and her heart ached for his loneliness. 
She wished that somewhere, some one might be 
found who — And it was at this point that she 
sprang to her feet with a little cry of joy at the 
thought that had come to her. 

As soon as she could, after that, she hurried up 
the hill to John Pendleton’s house; and in due 
time she found herself in the great dim library, with 
John Pendleton himself sitting near her, his long, 
thin hands lying idle on the arms of his chair, and 
his faithful little dog at his feet. 

“ Well, Pollyanna, is it to be the ‘ glad game ’ 
with me, all the rest of my life?” asked the man, 
jently. 

“ Oh, yes,” cried Pollyanna. “ I’ve thought of 


Poliyanna 


c h£ 


the very gladdest kind of a thing for you to do, 
and — ” 

“ With — you ?” asked John Pendleton, his 
mouth growing a little stern at the corners. 

“N-no; but — ” 

“ Poliyanna, you aren’t going to say no ! ” inter- 
rupted a voice deep with emotion. 

“I — I’ve got to, Mr. Pendleton ; truly I have. 
Aunt Polly — ” 

“ Did she refuse — to let you — come ? ” 

“I — I didn’t ask her,” stammered the little girl, 
miserably. 

“ Poliyanna ! ” 

Poliyanna turned away her eyes. She could not 
meet the hurt, grieved gaze of her friend. 

“ So you didn’t even ask her ! ” 

“ I couldn’t, sir — truly,” faltered Poliyanna. 
“You see, I found out — without asking. Aunt 
Polly wants me with her, and — and I want to stay, 
too,” she confessed bravely. “ You don’t know 
how good she’s been to me; and — and I think, 
really, sometimes she’s beginning to be glad about 
things — lots of things. And you know she never 
used to be. You said it yourself. Oh, Mr. Pendle- 
ton, I couldn't leave Aunt Polly — now ! ” 

There was a long pause. Only the snapping of 


A Question Answered 


213 


the wood fire in the grate broke the silence. At 
last, however, the man spoke. 

“ No, Pollyanna; I see. You couldn’t leave her 
— now,” he said. “ I won’t ask you — again.” 
The last word was so low it was almost inaudible; 
but Pollyanna heard. 

“ Oh, but you don’t know about the rest of it,” 
she reminded him eagerly. “ There’s the very 
gladdest thing you can do — truly there is ! ” 

“ Not for me, Pollyanna.” 

“ Yes, sir, for you. You said it. You said only 
a — a woman’s hand and heart or a child’s presence 
could make a home. And I can get it for you — a 
child’s presence; — not me, you know, but another 
one.” 

“ As if I would have any but you ! ” resented an 
indignant voice. 

“ But you will — when you know ; you’re so 
kind and good ! Why, think of the prisms and the 
gold pieces, and all that money you save for the 
heathen, and — ” 

“ Pollyanna ! ” interrupted the man, savagely. 
“ Once for all let us end that nonsense ! I’ve tried 
to tell you half a dozen times before. There is 
no money for the heathen. I never sent a penny to 
them in my life. There ! ” 


Pollyanna 


214 


He lifted his chin and braced himself to meet 
what he expected — the grieved disappointment of 
Pollyanna’s eyes. To his amazement, however, 
there was neither grief nor disappointment in Polly- 
anna’s eyes. There was only surprised joy. 

“ Oh, oh ! ” she cried, clapping her hands. “ I’m 
so glad! That is,” she corrected, coloring distress- 
fully, “ I don’t mean that I’m not sorry for the 
heathen, only just now I can’t help being glad that 
you don’t want the little India boys, because all the 
rest have wanted them. And so I’m glad you’d 
rather have Jimmy Bean. Now I know you’ll take 
him!” 

“ Take — who?” 

“ Jimmy Bean. He’s the * child’s presence,’ you 
know; and he’ll be so glad to be it. I had to tell 
him last week that even my Ladies’ Aid out West 
wouldn’t take him, and he was so disappointed. 
But now — when he hears of this — he’ll be so 
glad ! ” 

“ Will he? Well, I won’t,” ejaculated the 
man, decisively. “ Pollyanna, this is sheer non- 
sense ! ” 

“ You don’t mean — you won’t take him? ” 

“ I certainly do mean just that.” 

u But he’d be a lovely child’s presence,” faltered 


A Question Answered 215 


Pollyanna. She was almost crying now. “ And 
you couldn't be lonesome — with Jimmy ’round.” 

“ I don’t doubt it,” rejoined the man; “ but — 
I think I prefer the lonesomeness.” 

It was then that Pollyanna, for the first time in 
weeks, suddenly remembered something Nancy had 
once told her. She raised her chin aggrievedly. 

“ Maybe you think a nice live little boy wouldn’t 
be better than that old dead skeleton you keep some* 
where ; but I think it would ! ” 

“ Skeleton ? ” 

“ Yes. Nancy said you had one in your closet, 
sctnewhere.” 

u Why, what — ” Suddenly the man threw back 
his head and laughed. He laughed very heartily 
indeed — so heartily that Pollyanna began to cry 
from pure nervousness. When he saw that, John 
Pendleton sat erect very promptly. His face grew 
grave at once. 

“ Pollyanna, I suspect you are right — more 
right than you know,” he said gently. “ In fact, 
I know that a ‘ nice live little boy ’ would be far 
better than — my skeleton in the closet; only — 
we aren’t always willing to make the exchange. 
We are apt to still cling to — our skeletons, Polly- 
anna. However, suppose you tell me a little more 


216 


Pollyanna 


about this nice little boy.” And Pollyanna told 
him. 

Perhaps the laugh cleared the air; or perhaps 
the pathos of Jimmy Bean’s story as told by Polly- 
anna’s eager little lips touched a heart already 
strangely softened. At all events, when Pollyanna 
went home that night she carried with her an invi- 
tation for Jimmy Bean himself to call at the great 
house with Pollyanna the next Saturday afternoon. 

“ And I’m so glad, and I’m sure you’ll like him,” 
sighed Pollyanna, as she said good-by. “ I do so 
want Jimmy Bean to have a home — and folks that 
care, you know.,” 


CHAPTER XXII 


SERMONS AND WOODBOXES 

On the afternoon that Pollyanna told John Pen- 
dleton of Jimmy Bean, the Rev. Paul Ford climbed 
the hill and entered the Pendleton Woods, hoping 
that the hushed beauty of God’s out-of-doors would 
still the tumult that His children of men had 
wrought. 

The Rev. Paul Ford was sick at heart. Month 
by month, for a year past, conditions in the parish 
under him had been growing worse and worse; 
until it seemed that now, turn which way he would, 
he encountered only wrangling, backbiting, scandal, 
and jealousy. He had argued, pleaded, rebuked, 
and ignored by turns; and always and through all 
he had prayed — earnestly, hopefully. But to-day 
miserably he was forced to own that matters were 
no better, but rather worse. 

Two of his deacons were at swords’ points over 
a silly something that only endless brooding had 
made of any account. Three of his most energetic 
217 


ai8 


Pollyanna 


women workers had withdrawn from the Ladies' 
Aid Society because a tiny spark of gossip had been 
fanned by wagging tongues into a devouring flame 
of scandal. The choir had split over the amount of 
solo work given to a fanciedly preferred singer. 
Even the Christian Endeavor Society was in a 
ferment of unrest owing to open criticism of two 
of its officers. As to the Sunday school — it had 
been the resignation of its superintendent and two 
of its teachers that had been the last straw, and 
that had sent the harassed minister to the quiet 
woods for prayer and meditation. 

Under the green arch of the trees the Rev. Paul 
Ford faced the thing squarely. To his mind, the 
crisis had come. Something must be done — and 
done at once. The entire work of the church was 
at a standstill. The Sunday services, the week-day 
prayer meeting, the missionary teas, even the sup- 
pers and socials were becoming less and less well 
attended. True, a few conscientious workers were 
still left. But they pulled at cross purposes, usually*, 
and always they showed themselves to be acutely 
aware of the critical eyes all about them, and of 
the tongues that had nothing to do but to talk about 
What the eyes saw. 

And because of all this, the Rev. Paul Ford 


Sermons and Woodboxes 


219 


understood very well that he (God’s minister), the 
church, the town, and even Christianity itself was 
suffering ; and must suffer still more unless — 

Clearly something must be done, and done at 
once. But what? 

Slowly the minister took from his pocket the 
notes he had made for his next Sunday’s sermon. 
Frowningly he looked at them. His mouth settled 
into stern lines, as aloud, very impressively, he read 
the verses on which he had determined to speak : 

“ 4 But woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hyp- 
ocrites! for ye shut up the kingdom of heaven 
against men : for ye neither go in yourselves, 
neither suffer ye them that are entering to go in.’ 

“ 4 Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypo- 
crites! for ye devour widows’ houses, and for a 
pretence make long prayer: therefore ye shall re- 
ceive the greater damnation.’ 

44 4 Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypo- 
crites! for ye pay tithe of mint and anise and 
cummin, and have omitted the weightier matters 
of the law, judgment, mercy, and faith: these 
ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other 
undone.’ ” 

It was a bitter denunciation. In the green aisles 
©f the woods, the minister’s deep voice rang out 


no 


Pollyanna 


with scathing effect. Even the birds and squirrels 
seemed hushed into awed silence. It brought to 
the minister a vivid realization of how those words 
would sound the next Sunday when he should utter 
them before his people in the sacred hush of the 
church. 

His people ! — they were his people. Could he 
do it ? Dare he do it ? Dare he not do it ? It was 
a fearful denunciation, even without the words that 
would follow — his own words. He had prayed 
and prayed. He had pleaded earnestly for help, 
for guidance. He longed — oh, how earnestly he 
longed! — to take now, in this crisis, the right, step. 
But was this — the right step ? 

Slowly the minister folded the papers and thrust 
them back into his pocket. Then, with a sigh that 
was almost a moan, he flung himself down at the 
foot of a tree, and covered his face with his hands. 

It was there that Pollyanna, on her way home 
from the Pendleton house, found him. With a 
little cry she ran forward. 

“ Oh, oh, Mr. Ford ! You — you haven’t broken 
your leg or — or anything, have you ? ” she gasped. 

The minister dropped his hands, and looked up 
quickly. He tried to smile. 

" Noi, dear — no, indeed ! I’m just — resting.” 


Sermons and Woodboxes 


221 


“ Oh,” sighed Pollyanna, falling back a little. 
“ That’s all right, then. You see, Mr. Pendleton 
had broken his leg when I found him — but he was 
lying down, though. And you are sitting up.” 

“Yes, I am sitting up; and I haven’t broken 
anything — that doctors can mend.” 

The last words were very low, but Pollyanna 
heard them. A swift change crossed her face. 
Her eyes glowed with tender sympathy. 

“ I know what you mean — something plagues 
you. Father used to feel like that, lots of times. 
I reckon ministers do — most generally. You see 
there’s such a lot depends on ’em, somehow.” 

The Rev. Paul Ford turned a little wonder- 
ingly. 

“ Was your father a minister, Pollyanna? ” 

“ Yes, sir. Didn’t you know? I supposed every- 
body knew that. He married Aunt Polly’s sister, 
and she was my mother.” 

“ Oh, I understand. But, you see, I haven’t been 
here many years, so I don’t know all the family 
histories.” 

“Yes, sir — I mean, no, sir,” smiled Pollyanna. 

There was a long pause. The minister, still sit- 
ting at the foot of the tree, appeared to have for- 
gotten Pollyanna’s presence. He had pulled some 


222 


Pollyanna 


papers from his pocket and unfolded them; but he 
was not looking at them. He was gazing, instead, 
at a leaf on the ground a little distance away — 
and it was not even a pretty leaf. It was brown 
and dead. Pollyanna, looking at him, felt vaguely 
sorry for him. 

“ It — it’s a nice day,” she began hopefully. 

For a moment there was no answer; then the 
minister looked up with a start. 

“ What ? Oh ! — yes, it is a very nice day.” 

“ And ’tisn’t cold at all, either, even if ’tis Octo- 
ber,” observed Pollyanna, still more hopefully. 
“ Mr. Pendleton had a fire, but he said he didn’t 
need it. It was just to look at. I like to look at 
fires, don’t you ? ” 

There was no reply this time, though Polly- 
anna waited patiently, before she tried again — by 
a new; route. 

“ Do you like being a minister? ” 

The Rev. Paul Ford looked up now, very quickly. 

“ Do I like — Why, what an odd question ! 
Why do you ask that, my dear? ” 

“ Nothing — only the way you looked. It made 
me think of my father. He used to look like that 
— sometimes.” 

“ Did he? ” The minister’s voice was polite, but 



“ BORNE, LIMP AND UNCONSCIOUS, INTO THE LITTLE ROOM 
THAT WAS SO DEAR TO HER.” 









































































































* 



Sermons and Woodboxes 


223 


his eyes had gone back to the dried leaf on the 
ground. 

“ Yes, and I used to ask him just as I did you 
if he was glad he was a minister. ,, 

The man under the tree smiled a little sadly. 

“ Well — what did he say? ” 

“ Oh, he always said he was, of course, but ’most 
always he said, too, that he wouldn’t stay a minister 
a minute if ’twasn’t for the rejoicing texts.” 

“The — what ?” The Rev. Paul Ford’s eyes 
left the leaf and gazed wonderingly into Pollyanna’s 
merry little face. 

“ Well, that’s what father used to call ’em,” she 
laughed. “ Of course the Bible didn’t name ’em 
that. But it’s all those that begin * Be glad in the 
Lord,’ or ‘ Rejoice greatly,’ or ‘ Shout for joy,’ 
and all that, you know — such a lot of ’em. Once, 
when father felt specially bad, he counted ’em. 
There were eight hundred of ’em.” 

" Eight hundred ! ” 

“Yes — that told you to rejoice and be glad, 
you know ; that’s why father named ’em the ‘ re- 
joicing texts.’ ” 

“ Oh ! ” There was an odd look on the min- 
ister’s face. His eyes had fallen to the words on 
the top paper in his hands — “ But woe unto you, 


m 


Pollyanna 


scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites ! ” “ And so your 
father — liked those ‘ rejoicing texts/ ” he mur- 
mured. 

“ Oh, yes ,” nodded Pollyanna, emphatically. 
“ He said he felt better right away, that first day 
he thought to count ’em. He said if God took the 
trouble to tell us eight hundred times to be glad 
and rejoice, He must want us to do it — some. 
And father felt ashamed that he hadn’t done it 
more. After that, they got to be such a comfort 
to him, you know, when things went wrong; when 
the Ladies’ Aiders got to fight — I mean, when 
they didn’t agree about something,” corrected Pol- 
lyanna, hastily. “ Why, it was those texts, too, 
father said, that made him think of the game — he 
began with me on the crutches — but he said ’twas 
the rejoicing texts that started him on it.” 

“ And what game might that be ? ” asked the 
minister. 

“ About finding something in everything to be 
glad about, you know. As I said, he began with 
me on the crutches.” And once more Pollyanna 
told her story — this time to a man who listened 
with tender eyes and understanding ears. 

A little later Pollyanna and the minister de- 
scended the hill, hand in hand. Pollyanna’s face 


Sermons and Woodboxes 22$ 

1 — — y — 

was radiant. Pollyanna loved to talk, and she had 
been talking now for some time: there seemed to 
be so many, many things about the game, her father, 
and the old home life that the minister wanted to 
know. 

At the foot of the hill their ways parted, and 
Pollyanna down one road, and the minister down 
another, walked on alone. 

In the Rev. Paul Ford’s study that evening the 
minister sat thinking. Near him on the desk lay 
a few loose sheets of paper — his sermon notes. 
Under the suspended pencil in his fingers lay other 
sheets of paper, blank — his sermon to be. But the 
minister was not thinking either of what he had 
written, or of what he intended to write. In his 
imagination he was far away in a little Western 
town with a missionary minister who was poor, 
sick, worried, and almost alone in the world — but 
who was poring over the Bible to find how many 
times his Lord and Master had told him to “ re- 
joice and be glad.” 

After a time, with a long sigh, the Rev. Paul 
Ford roused himself, came back from the far West- 
ern town, and adjusted the sheets of paper under 
his hand. 

“Matthew twenty-third; 13 — 14 and 23,” he 


226 


Foiiyanna 


wrote; then, with a gesture of impatience, he 
dropped his pencil and pulled toward him a maga- 
zine left on the desk by his wife a few minutes 
before. Listlessly his tired eyes turned from para- 
graph to paragraph until these words arrested 
them : 

“ A father one day said to his son, Tom, who, 
he knew, had refused to fill his mother’s woodbox 
that morning: * Tom, I’m sure you’ll be glad to 
go and bring in some wood for your mother.’ And 
without a word Tom went. Why? Just because 
his father showed so plainly that he expected him 
to do the right thing. Suppose he had said : 4 Tom, 
I overheard what you said to your mother this 
morning, and I’m ashamed of you. Go at once 
and fill that woodbox ! ’ I’ll warrant that woodbox 
would be empty yet, so far as Tom was concerned ! ” 

On and on read the minister — a word here, a 
line there, a paragraph somewhere else : 

44 What men and women need is encouragement. 
Their natural resisting powers should be strength- 
ened, not weakened. . . . Instead of always harp- 
ing on a man’s faults, tell him of his virtues. Try 
to pull him out of his rut of bad habits. Hold up 
to him his better self, his real self that can dare 
and do and win out! . . . The influence of a beau- 


Sermons and Woodboxes 


£27 


tiful, helpful, hopeful character is contagious, and 
may revolutionize a whole town. . . . People radi- 
ate what is in their minds and in their hearts. If 
a man feels kindly and obliging, his neighbors will 
feel that way, too, before long. But if he scolds 
and scowls and criticizes — his neighbors will re- 
turn scowl for scowl, and add interest! . . . When 
you look for the bad, expecting it, you will get it. 
When you know you will find the good — you will 
get that. . . . Tell your son Tom you know he’ll 
be glad to fill that woodbox — then watch him start, 
alert and interested ! ” 

The minister dropped the paper and lifted his 
chin. In a moment he was on his feet, tramping 
the narrow room back and forth, back and forth. 
Later, some time later, he drew a long breath, and 
dropped himself in the chair at his desk. 

“ God helping me, I’ll do it ! ” he cried softly. 
“ I’ll tell all my Toms I know they’ll be glad to fill 
that woodbox! I’ll give them work to do, and I’ll 
make them so full of the very joy of doing it that 
they won’t have time to look at their neighbors’ 
woodboxes ! ” And he picked up his sermon notes, 
tore straight through the sheets, and cast them 
from him, so that on one side of his chair lay 
w But woe unto you,” and on the other, “ scribes 


228 


Pollyanna 


and Pharisees, hypocrites ! ” while across the 
smooth white paper before him his pencil fairly 
flew — after first drawing one black line through 
“ Matthew twenty-third; 13 — 14 and 23.” 

Thus it happened that the Rev. Paul Ford’s ser- 
mon the next Sunday was a veritable bugle-call 
to the best that was in every man and woman and 
child that heard it; and its text was one of Polly- 
anna’s shining eight hundred : 

“ Be glad in the Lord and rejoice, ye righteous, 
and shout for joy all ye that are upright in heart.” 


CHAPTER XXIII 


AN ACCIDENT 

At Mrs. Snow’s request, Pollyanna went one 
day to Dr. Chilton’s office to get the name of a 
medicine which Mrs. Snow had forgotten. As it 
chanced, Pollyanna had never before seen the in- 
side of Dr. Chilton’s office. 

“ I’ve never been to your home before ! This is 
your home, isn’t it ? ” she said, looking interestedly 
about her. 

The doctor smiled a little sadly. 

“Yes — such as ’tis,” he answered, as he wrote 
something on the pad of paper in his hand ; “ but 
it’s a pretty poor apology for a home, Pollyanna. 
They’re just rooms, that’s all — not a home.” 

Pollyanna nodded her head wisely. Her eyes 
glowed with sympathetic understanding. 

“ I know. It takes a woman’s hand and heart, 
or a child’s presence to make a home,” she said. 

" Eh ? ” The doctor wheeled about abruptly. 

" Mr. Pendleton told me,” nodded Pollyanna. 

229 


230 


Pollyanna 


! * ■ -- * ** r ^* 

again ; “ about the woman’s hand and heart, or the 
child’s presence, you know. Why don’t you get a 
woman’s hand and heart, Dr. Chilton? Or maybe 
you’d take Jimmy Bean — if Mr. Pendleton doesn’t 
want him.” 

Dr. Chilton laughed a little constrainedly. 

“ So Mr. Pendleton says it takes a woman’s hand 
and heart to make a home, does he ? ” he asked 
evasively. 

“ Yes. He says his is just a house, too. Why 
don’t you, Dr. Chilton ? ” 

“ Why don’t I — what ? ” The doctor had 
turned back to his desk. 

“ Get a woman’s hand and heart. Oh — and I 
forgot.” Pollyanna’s face showed suddenly a pain- 
ful color. “ I suppose I ought to tell you. It wasn’t 
Aunt Polly that Mr. Pendleton loved long ago; 
and so we — we aren’t going there to live. You 
see, I told you it was — but I made a mistake. I 
hope you didn’t tell any one,” she finished anxiously. 

“ No — I didn’t tell any one, Pollyanna,” re- 
plied the doctor, a little queerly. 

“ Oh, that’s all right, then,” sighed Pollyanna in 
relief. “ You see you’re the only one I told, and 
I thought Mr. Pendleton looked sort of funny when 
I said I’d told you ” 


An Accident 


m 


“ Did he ? ” The doctor’s lips twitched. 

“ Yes. And of course he wouldn’t want many 
people to know it — when ’twasn’t true. But wbjt 
don’t you get a woman’s hand and heart, Dr. Chil- 
ton?” 

There was a moment’s silence ; then very gravely 
the doctor said : 

“ They’re not always to be had — for the asking, 
little girl.” 

Pollyanna frowned thoughtfully. 

“ But I should think you could get ’em,” she 
argued. The flattering emphasis was unmistakable. 

“ Thank you,” laughed the doctor, with uplifted 
eyebrows. Then, gravely again : “ I’m afraid some 
of your older sisters would not be quite so — con- 
fident. At least, they — they haven’t shown them- 
selves to be so — obliging,” he observed. 

Pollyanna frowned again. Then her eyes wi- 
dened in surprise. 

“ Why, Dr. Chilton, you don’t mean — you 
didn’t try to get somebody’s hand and heart once, 
like Mr. Pendleton, and — and couldn’t, did you ? ” 

The doctor got to his feet a little abruptly. 

“ There, there, Pollyanna, never mind about that 
now. Don’t let other people’s troubles worry your 
little head. Suppose you run back now to Mrs. 


Pollyanna 


232 


Snow, i've written down the name of the medicine, 
and the directions how she is to take it. Was there 
anything else ? ” 

Pollyanna shook her head. 

“No, sir; thank you, sir,” she murmured so- 
berly, as she turned toward the door. From the 
little hallway she called back, her face suddenly 
alight : “ Anyhow, I’m glad ’twasn’t my mother’s 
hand and heart that you wanted and couldn’t get, 
Dr. Chilton. Good-by ! ” 

It was on the last day of October that the acci- 
dent occurred. Pollyanna, hurrying home from 
school, crossed the road at an apparently safe dis- 
tance in front of a swiftly approaching motor car. 

Just what happened, no one could seem to tell 
afterward. Neither was there any one found who 
could tell why it happened or who was to blame that 
it did happen. Pollyanna, however, at five o’clock, 
'was borne, limp and unconscious, into the little room 
that was so dear to her. There, by a white-faced 
Aunt Polly and a weeping Nancy she was un- 
dressed tenderly and put to bed, while from the 
village, hastily summoned by telephone, Dr. War- 
ren was hurrying as fast as another motor car could 
bring him. 


An Accident 


“ And ye didn’t need ter more’n look ! 
aunt’s face,” Nancy was sobbing to Old Ton 
garden, after the doctor had arrived and wa* 
eted in the hushed room ; “ ye didn’t need 
more’n look at her aunt’s face ter see that ’twa’n 
no duty that was eatin’ her. Yer hands don’t shake, 
and yer eyes don’t look as if ye was tryin’ ter hold 
back the Angel o’ Death himself, when you’re jest 
doin’ yer duty , Mr. Tom — they don’t, they don’t! ” 

“ Is she hurt — bad ? ” The old man’s voice 
shook. 

“ There ain’t no tellin’,” sobbed Nancy. “ She 
lay back that white an’ still she might easy be dead; 
but Miss Polly said she wa’n’t dead — an’ Miss 
Polly had oughter know, if any one would — she 
kept up such a listenin’ an’ a feelin’ for her heart- 
beats an’ her breath ! ” 

“ Couldn’t ye tell anythin’ what it done to her? 
— that — that — ” Old Tom’s face worked con- 
vulsively. 

Nancy’s lips relaxed a little. 

“ I wish ye would call it somethin’, Mr. Tom — 
an’ somethin’ good an’ strong, too. Drat it! Ter 
think of its runnin’ down our little girl! I always 
hated the evil-smellin’ things, anyhow - — I did, I 
did!” 


Pollyanna 


K where is she hurt ? ” 

jon’t know, I don’t know,” moaned Nancy, 
re’s a little cut on her blessed head, but ’tain’t 
^ — that ain’t — Miss Polly says. She says she’s 
ifraid it’s infernally she’s hurt.” 

A faint flicker came into Old Tom’s eyes. 

“ I guess you mean internally, Nancy,” he said 
dryly. “ She’s hurt infernally, all right — plague 
take that autymobile ! — but I don’t guess Miss 
Polly’d be usin’ that word, all the same.” 

“Eh? Well, I don’t know, I don’t know,” 
moaned Nancy, with a shake of her head as she 
turned away. “ Seems as if I jest couldn’t stand it 
till that doctor gits out o’ there. I wish I had a 
washin’ ter do — the biggest washin’ I ever see, I 
do, I do ! ” she wailed, wringing her hands help- 
lessly. 

Even after the doctor was gone, however, there 
seemed to be little that Nancy could tell Mr. Tom. 
There appeared to be no bones broken, and the cut 
was of slight consequence; but the doctor had 
looked very grave, had shaken his head slowly, and 
had said that time alone could tell. After he had 
gone, Miss Polly had shown a face even whiter and 
more drawn looking than before. The patient had 
not fully recovered consciousness, but at present she 


An Accident 


235 


seemed to be resting as comfortably as could be 
expected. A trained nurse had been sent for, and 
would come that night. That was all. And Nancy 
turned sobbingly, and went back to her kitchen. 

It was sometime during the next forenoon that 
Pollyanna opened conscious eyes and realized where 
she was. 

“ Why, Aunt Polly, what’s the matter ? Isn’t it 
daytime ? Why don’t I get up ? ” she cried. 
“ Why, Aunt Polly, I can’t get up,” she moaned, 
falling back on the pillow, after an ineffectual at- 
tempt to lift herself. 

“No, dear, I wouldn’t try — just yet,” soothed 
her aunt quickly, but very quietly. 

“ But what is the matter ? Why can’t I get up ? ” 

Miss Polly’s eyes asked an agonized question of 
the white-capped young woman standing in the 
window, out of the range of Pollyanna’s eyes. 

The young woman nodded. 

“ Tell her,” the lips said. 

Miss Polly cleared her throat, and tried to swal- 
low the lump that would scarcely let her speak. 

“ You were hurt, dear, by the automobile last 
night. But never mind that now. Auntie wants 
you to rest and go to sleep again.” 

“ Hurt? Oh, yes; I — I ran.” Pollyanna’s eye£ 


236 


Pollyanna 


were dazed. She lifted her hand to her forehead. 
“ Why, it’s — done up, and it — hurts ! ” 

“ Yes, dear; but never mind. Just — just rest.” 

“ But, Aunt Polly, I feel so funny, and so bad ! 
My legs feel so — so queer — only they don’t feel 
— at all!” 

With an imploring look into the nurse’s face, 
Miss Polly struggled to her feet, and turned away. 
The nurse came forward quickly. 

“ Suppose you let me talk to you now,” she be- 
gan cheerily. “ I’m sure I think it’s high time we 
were getting acquainted, and I’m going to introduce 
myself. I am Miss Hunt, and I’ve come to help 
your aunt take care of you. And the very first thing 
I’m going to do is to ask you to swallow these little 
white pills for me.” 

Pollyanna’s eyes grew a bit wild. 

“ But I don’t want to be taken care of — that is, 
not for long! I want to get up. You know I go to 
school. Can’t I go to school to-morrow ? ” 

From the window where Aunt Polly stood now 
there came a half-stifled cry. 

“ To-morrow?” smiled the nurse, brightly. 
“ Well, I may not let you out quite so soon as that, 
Miss Pollyanna. But just swallow these little pills 
for me, please, and we’ll see what they'll do.” 


An Accident 


237 


“ All right,” agreed Pollyanna, somewhat doubt- 
fully ; “ but I must go to school day after to-morrow 
— there are examinations then, you know.” 

She spoke again, a minute later. She spoke of 
school, and of the automobile, and of how her head 
ached; but very soon her voice trailed into silence 
under the blessed influence of the little white pills 
she had swallowed. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


JOHN PENDLETON 

Pollyanna did not go to school “ to-morrow,” 
nor the “ day after to-morrow.” Pollyanna, how- 
ever, did not realize this, except momentarily when 
a brief period of full consciousness sent insistent 
questions to her lips. Pollyanna did not realize 
anything, in fact, very clearly until a week had 
passed; then the fever subsided, the pain lessened 
somewhat, and her mind awoke to full conscious- 
ness. She had then to be told all over again what 
had occurred. 

“ And so it’s hurt that I am, and not sick,” she 
sighed at last. “ Well, I’m glad of that.” 

“ G-glad, Pollyanna ? ” asked her aunt, who was 
sitting by the bed. 

“ Yes. I’d so much rather have broken legs like 
Mr. Pendleton’s than life-long-invalids like Mrs. 
Snow, you know. Broken legs get well, and life- 
long-invalids don’t.” 


238 


John Pendleton 


239 


Miss Polly — who had said nothing whatever 
about broken legs — got suddenly to her feet and 
walked to the little dressing table across the room. 
She was picking up one object after another now, 
and putting each down, in an aimless fashion quite 
unlike her usual decisiveness. Her face was not 
aimless-looking at all, however; it was white and 
drawn. 

On the bed Pollyanna lay blinking at the dancing 
band of colors on the ceiling, which came from one 
of the prisms in the window. 

“ I’m glad it isn’t smallpox that ails me, too,” 
she murmured contentedly. “ That would be worse 
than freckles. And I’m glad ’tisn’t whooping cough 

— I’ve had that, and it’s horrid — and I’m glad 
’tisn’t appendicitis nor measles, ’cause they’re catch- 
ing — measles are, I mean — and they wouldn’t let 
you stay here.” 

“ You seem to — to be glad for a good many 
things, my dear,” faltered Aunt Polly, putting her 
hand to her throat as if her collar bound. 

Pollyanna laughed softly. 

“ I am. I’ve been thinking of ’em — lots of ’em 

— all the time I’ve been looking up at that rain- 
bow. I love rainbows. I’m so glad Mr. Pendleton 
gave me those prisms ! I’m glad of some things I 


240 


Pollyanna 


haven’t said yet. I don’t know but I’m ’most glad 
1 was hurt.” 

“ Pollyanna!” 

Pollyanna laughed softly again. She turned 
luminous eyes on her aunt. “ Well, you see, since 
I have been hurt, you’ve called me ‘ dear ’ lots of 
times — and you didn’t before. I love to be called 
‘ dear ’ — by folks that belong to you, I mean. 
Some of the Ladies’ Aiders did call me that; and 
of course that was pretty nice, but not so nice as 
if they had belonged to me, like you do. Oh, Aunt 
Polly, I’m so glad you belong to me ! ” 

Aunt Polly did not answer. Her hand was at 
her throat again. Her eyes were full of tears. She 
had turned away and was hurrying from the room 
through the door by which the nurse had just en- 
tered. 

It was that afternoon that Nancy ran out to Old 
Tom, who was cleaning harnesses in the barn. Her 
eyes were wild. 

“Mr. Tom v Mr. Tom, guess what’s happened,” 
sne panted. “ You couldn’t guess in a thousand 
years — you couldn’t, you couldn’t ! ” 

“ Then I cal’late I won’t try,” retorted the man, 
grimly, “ specially as I hain’t got more’n ten ter 


John Pendleton 


241 


live, anyhow, probably. You’d better tell me first 
off, Nancy.” 

“ Well, listen, then. Who do you s’pose is in the 
parlor now with the mistress ? Who, I say ? ” 

Old Tom shook his head. 

“ There’s no tellin’,” he declared. 

“Yes, there is. I’m tellin’. It’s — John Pen- 
dleton ! ” 

“ Sho, now! You’re jokin’, girl.” 

“ Not much I am — an’ me a-lettin’ him in my- 
self — crutches an’ all! An’ the team he come in 
a-waitin’ this minute at the door for him, jest as if 
he wa’n’t the cranky old crosspatch he is, what 
never talks ter no one ! Jest think, Mr. Tom — him 
a-callin’ on her!” 

“Well, why not?” demanded the old man, a 
little aggressively. 

Nancy gave him a scornful glance. 

“As if you didn’t know better’n me!” she de- 
rided. 

“Eh?” 

“ Oh, you needn’t be so innercent,” she retorted 
with mock indignation ; “ — you what led me wild- 
goose chasin’ in the first place ! ” 

“ What do ye mean ? ” 

Nancy glanced through the open barn door 


Pollyanna 


242 

toward the house, and came a step nearer to the 
old man. 

“ Listen ! ’Twas you that was tellin’ me Miss 
Polly had a lover in the first place, wa’n’t it? Well, 
one day I thinks I finds two and two, and I puts ’em 
tergether an’ makes four. But it turns out ter be 
five — an’ no four at all, at all ! ” 

With a gesture of indifference Old Tom turned 
and fell to work. 

“ If you’re goin’ ter talk ter me, you’ve got ter 
talk plain horse sense,” he declared testily. “ I 
never was no hand for figgers.” 

Nancy laughed. 

“ Well, it’s this,” she explained. “ I heard some- 
thin’ that made me think him an’ Miss Polly was 
lovers.” 

“Mr. Pendleton! ” Old Tom straightened up. 

“ Yes. Oh, I know now; he wasn’t. It was that 
blessed child’s mother he was in love with, and that’s 
why he wanted — but never mind that part,” she 
added hastily, remembering just in time her prom- 
ise to Pollyanna not to tell that Mr. Pendleton had 
wished her to come and live with him. “ Well, 
I’ve been askin’ folks about him some, since, and 
I’ve found out that him an’ Miss Polly hain’t been 
friends for years, an’ that she’s been hatin’ him 


John Pendleton 


243 


like pizen owin’ ter the silly gossip that coupled 
their names tergether when she was eighteen or 
twenty.” 

“ Yes, I remember,” nodded Old Tom. “ It was 
three or four years after Miss Jennie give him the 
mitten and went off with the other chap. Miss 
Polly knew about it, of course, and was sorry for 
him. So she tried ter be nice to him. Maybe she 
overdid it a little — she hated that minister chap 
so who had took off her sister. At any rate, some- 
body begun ter make trouble. They said she was 
runnin’ after him.” 

“ Runnin’ after any man — her!” interjected 
Nancy. 

“I know it; but they did,” declared Old Tom, 
“ and of course no gal of any spunk’ll stand that. 
Then about that time come her own lover an’ the 
trouble with him. After that she shut up like an 
oyster an’ wouldn’t have nothin’ ter do with nobody 
fur a spell. Her heart jest seemed to turn bitter at 
the core.” 

“ Yes, I know. Pve heard about that now,” re- 
joined Nancy; “an’ that’s why you could V 
knocked me down with a feather when I see him 
at the door — him, what she hain’t spoke to for 
years ! But I let him in an’ went an’ tola her.” 


244 


Pollyanna 


“ What did she say? ” Old Tom held his breath 
suspended. 

“ Nothin’ — at first. She was so still I thought 
she hadn’t heard; and I was jest goin’ ter say it 
over when she speaks up quiet like : ‘ Tell Mr. Pen- 
dleton I will be down at once.’ An’ I come an’ told 
him. Then I come out here an’ told you,” finished 
Nancy, casting another backward glance toward 
the house. 

“ Humph! ” grunted Old Tom; and fell to work 
again. 

In the ceremonious “ parlor ” of the Harrington 
homestead, Mr. John Pendleton did not have to 
wait long before a swift step warned him of Miss 
Polly’s coming. As he attempted to rise, she made 
a gesture of remonstrance. She did not offer her 
hand, however, and her face was coldly reserved. 

“ I called to ask for — Pollyanna,” he began at 
once, a little brusquely. 

“ Thank you. She is about the same,” said Miss 
Polly. 

“ And that is — won’t you tell me how she is ? ” 
His voice was not quite steady this time. 

A quick spasm of pain crossed the woman’s face. 

“ I can’t, I wish I could ! ” 


John Pendleton 


245 


“ You mean — you don’t know? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ But — the doctor ? ” 

“ Dr. Warren himself seems — at sea. He is 
in correspondence now with a New York spe- 
cialist. They have arranged for a consultation — 
at once.” 

“ But — but what were her injuries that you do 
know ? ” 

“ A slight cut on the head, one or two bruises, 
and — and an injury to the spine which has seemed 
to cause — paralysis from the hips down.” 

A low cry came from the man. There was a 
brief silence ; then, huskily, he asked : 

“ And Pollyanna — how does she — take it ? ” 

" She doesn’t understand — at all — how things 
really are. And I can't tell her.” 

“ But she must know — something ! ” 

Miss Polly lifted her hand to the collar at her 
throat in the gesture that had become so common 
to her of late. 

“ Oh, yes. She knows she can’t — move ; but 
she thinks her legs are — broken. She says she’s 
glad it’s broken legs like yours rather than ‘ life- 
long-invalids 9 like Mrs. Snow’s ; because broken 
kgs get well, and the other — - doesn’t She talks 


m 


Pollyanna 


like that all the time, until it — it seems as if I 
should — die ! ” 

Through the blur of tears in his own eyes, the 
man saw the drawn face opposite, twisted with 
emotion. Involuntarily his thoughts went back to 
what Pollyanna had said when he had made his 
final plea for her presence : “ Oh, I couldn’t leave 
Aunt Polly — now ! ” 

It was this thought that made him ask ver y 
gently, as soon as he could control his voice: 

" I wonder if you know, Miss Harrington, how 
hard I tried to get Pollyanna to come and live with 
me.” 

“ With you ! — Pollyanna ! ” 

The man winced a little at the tone of her voice ; 
but his own voice was still impersonally cool when 
he spoke again. 

“Yes. I wanted to adopt her — legally, you 
understand; making her my heir, of course.” 

The woman in the opposite chair relaxed a little. 
It came to her, suddenly, what a brilliant future it 
would have meant for Pollyanna — this adoption ; 
and she wondered if Pollyanna were old enough — 
and mercenary enough — to be tempted by this 
man’s money and position. 

“ I am very fond of Pollyanna,” the man was 


John Pendleton 


247 


continuing. “ I am fond of her both for her own 
sake, and for — her mother’s. I stood ready to 
give Pollyanna the love that had been twenty-five 
years in storage.” 

“Love.” Miss Polly remembered suddenly why 
she had taken this child in the first place — and with 
the recollection came the remembrance of Polly- 
anna’s own words uttered that very morning : “ I 
love to be called ‘ dear ’ by folks that belong to 
you ! ” And it was this love-hungry little girl that 
had been offered the stored-up affection of twenty- 
five years : — and she was old enough to be tempted 
by love! With a sinking heart Miss Polly realized 
that. With a sinking heart, too, she realized some- 
thing else : the dreariness of her own future now — 
without Pollyanna. 

“Well?” she said. And the man, recognizing 
the self-control that vibrated through the harshness 
of the tone, smiled sadly. 

“ She would not come,” he answered. 

“ Why?” 

“ She would not leave you. She said you had 
been so good to her. She wanted to stay with you 
— and she said she thought you wanted her to 
stay,” he finished, as he pulled himself to his feet. 

He did not look toward Miss Polly. He turned 


248 


Pollyanna 


his face resolutely toward the door. But instantly 
he heard a swift step at his side, and found a 
shaking hand thrust toward him. 

“ When the specialist comes, and I know any- 
thing — definite about Pollyanna, I will let you 
hear from me,” said a trembling voice. “ Good-by 
— and thank you for coming. Pollyanna will be — 
pleased.” 


CHAPTER XXV 


A WAITING GAME 

On the day after John Pendleton’s call at the 
Harrington homestead, Miss Polly set herself to 
the task of preparing Pollyanna for the visit of the 
specialist. 

“ Pollyanna, my dear,” she began gently, “ we 
have decided that we want another doctor besides 
Dr. Warren to see you. Another one might tell us 
something new to do — to help you get well faster, 
you know.” 

A joyous light came to Pollyanna’s face. 

“ Dr. Chilton ! Oh, Aunt Polly, I’d so love to 
have Dr. Chilton! I’ve wanted him all the time, 
but I was afraid you didn’t, on account of his see- 
ing you in the sun parlor that day, you know; so 
I didn’t like to say anything. But I’m so glad you 
do want him ! ” 

Aunt Polly’s face had turned white, then red, 
then back to white again. But when she answered, 
249 


/ 


250 


Pollyanna 


she showed very plainly that she was trying to 
speak lightly and cheerfully. 

“ Oh, no, dear ! It wasn’t Dr. Chilton at all that 
I meant. It is a new doctor — a very famous doc- 
tor from New York, who — who knows a great 
deal about — about hurts like yours.” 

Pollyanna’s face fell. 

“ I don’t believe he knows half so much as Dr e 
Chilton.” 

“ Oh, yes,, he does, I’m sure, dear.” 

“ But it was Dr. Chilton who doctored Mr. Pen- 
dleton’s broken leg, Aunt Polly. If — if you don’t 
mind very much, I would like to have Dr. Chilton 
— truly I would ! ” 

A distressed color suffused Miss Polly’s face. 
For a moment she did not speak at all; then she 
said gently — though yet with a touch of her old 
stern decisiveness: 

“ But I do mind, Pollyanna. I mind very much. 
I would do anything — almost anything for you, 
my dear ; but I — for reasons which I do not care 
to speak of now, I don’t wish Dr. Chilton called 
In on — on this case. And believe me, he can not 
know so much about — about your trouble, as this 
great doctor does, who will come from New York 
to-morrow.” 


A Waiting Game 


251 


Pollyanna still looked unconvinced. 

“ But, Aunt Polly, if you loved Dr. Chilton — ” 

“What, Pollyanna?” Aunt Polly’s voice was 
very sharp now. Her cheeks were very red, too. 

“ I say, if you loved Dr. Chilton, and didn’t love 
the other one,” sighed Pollyanna, “ seems to me 
that would make some difference in the good he 
would do; and I love Dr. Chilton.” 

The nurse entered the room at that moment, and 
Aunt Polly rose to her feet abruptly, a look of relief 
on her face. 

“ I am very sorry, Pollyanna,” she said, a little 
stiffly; “but Pm afraid you’ll have to let me be 
the judge, this time. Besides, it’s already ar- 
ranged. The New York doctor is coming to- 
morrow.” 

As it happened, however, the New York doctor 
did not come “ to-morrow.” At the last moment 
a telegram told of an unavoidable delay owing to 
the sudden illness of the specialist himself. This 
led Pollyanna into a renewed pleading for the sub- 
stitution of Dr. Chilton — “ which would be so easy 
now, you know.” 

But as before, Aunt Polly shook her head and 
said “ no, dear,” very decisively, yet with a still 
more anxious assurance that she would do anything 


Pollyanna 


m 

— anything but that — to please her dear Polly- 
anna. 

As the days of waiting passed, one by one, it did 
indeed, seem that Aunt Polly was doing everything 
(but that) that she could do to please her niece. 

“ I wouldn’t ’a’ believed it — you couldn’t ’a’ 
made me believe it,” Nancy said to Old Tom one 
morning. “ There don’t seem ter be a minute in 
the day that Miss Polly ain’t jest hangin’ ’round 
waitin’ ter do somethin’ for that blessed lamb, if 
’tain’t more than ter let in the cat — an’ her what 
wouldn’t let Fluff nor Buff up-stairs for love nor 
money a week ago; an’ now she lets ’em tumble 
all over the bed jest ’cause it pleases Miss Polly- 
anna ! 

“ An’ when she ain’t doin’ nothin’ else, she’s 
movin’ them little glass danglers ’round ter diff’- 
rent winders in the room so the sun’ll make the 
4 rainbows dance,’ as that blessed child calls it. 
She’s sent Timothy down ter Cobb’s greenhouse 
three times for fresh flowers — an’ that besides all 
the posies fetched in ter her, too. An’ the other 
day, if I didn’t find her sittin’ ’fore the bed with 
the nurse actually doin’ her hair, an’ Miss Polly- 
anna lookin’ on an’ bossin’ from the bed, her eyes 
all shinin’ an’ happy. An’ I declare ter goodness, if 


A Waiting Game 253 


Miss Polly hain’t wore her hair like that every day 
now — jest ter please that blessed child!” 

Old Tom chuckled. 

“ Well, it strikes me Miss Polly herself ain’t 
lookin’ none the worse — for wearin’ them ’ere 
curls ’round her forehead,” he observed dryly. 

“ ’Course she ain’t,” retorted Nancy, indignantly. 
“ She looks like folks, now. She’s actually al- 
most — ” 

“ Keerful, now, Nancy!” interrupted the old 
man, with a slow grin. “ You know what you said 
when I t-old ye she was handsome once.” 

Nancy shrugged her shoulders. 

“ Oh, she ain’t handsome, of course ; but I will 
own up she don’t look like the same woman, what 
with the ribbons an’ lace jiggers Miss Pollyanna 
makes her wear ’round her neck.” 

“ I told ye so,” nodded the man. “ I told ye she 
wa’n’t — old.” 

Nancy laughed. 

“ W ell, I’ll own up she hain’t got quite so good 
an imitation of it — as she did have, ’fore Miss 
Pollyanna come. Say, Mr. Tom, who was her 
lover? I hain’t found that out, yet; I hain’t, I 
hain’t!” 

“ Hain’t ye ? ” asked the old man, with an odd 


£54 


Pollyanna 


look on his face. “ Well, I guess ye won’t then — 
from me.” 

“ Oh, Mr. Tom, come on, now,” wheedled the 
girl. “ Ye see, there ain’t many folks here that I 
can ask.” 

“ Maybe not. But there’s one, anyhow, that 
ain’t answerin’,” grinned Old Tom. Then, ab- 
ruptly, the light died from his eyes. “ How is she, 
ter-day — the little gal ? ” 

Nancy shook her head. Her face, too, had so- 
bered. 

“ Just the same, Mr. Tom. There ain’t no special 
diff’rence, as I can see — or anybody, I guess. She 
jest lays there an’ sleeps an’ talks some, an’ tries 
ter smile an’ be ‘ glad ’ ’cause the sun sets or th* 
moon rises, or some other such thing, till it’s enough 
ter make yer heart break with achin’.” 

“I know; it’s the 'game’ — bless her sweeC 
heart! ” nodded Old Tom, blinking a little. 

“ She told you , then, too, about that ’ere — 
game ? ” 

“ Oh, yes. She told me long ago.” The old man 
hesitated, then went on, his lips twitching a little. 
“ I was growlin’ one day ’cause I was so bent up 
and crooked; an’ what do ye s’pose the little thing 
said ? ” 


A Waiting Game 


255 


“ I couldn’t guess. I wouldn’t think she could 
find anythin' about that ter be glad about ! ” 

“ She did. She said I could be glad, anyhow, 
that I didn’t have ter stoop so far ter do my weedin' 

— ’cause I was already bent part way over.” 

Nancy gave a wistful laugh. 

“ Well, I ain’t surprised, after all. You might 
know she’d find somethin’. We’ve been playin’ it 

— that game — since almost the first, ’cause there 
wa’n’t no one else she could play it with — though 
she did speak of — her aunt.” 

“ Miss Polly! " 

Nancy chuckled. 

“ I guess you hain’t got such an awful diff’rent 
opinion o’ the mistress than I have,” she bridled. 

Old Tom stiffened. 

“ 1 was only thinkin’ ’twould be — some of a sur- 
prise- to her,” he explained with dignity. 

“ Well, yes, I guess ’twould be — then," retorted 
Nancy. “ I ain’t sayin’ what ’twould be now. I’d 
believe anythin’ o’ the mistress now — even that 
she’d take ter playin’ it herself ! ” 

“ But hain’t the little gal told her — ever ? She’s 
told ev’ry one else, I guess. I’m hearin’ of it ev’ry- 
where, now, since she was hurted,” said Tom. 

“ Well, she didn’t tell Miss Polly,” rejoined 


Pollyanna 


456 


Nancy. “ Miss Pollyanna told me long ago that 
she couldn’t tell her, ’cause her aunt didn’t like ter 
have her talk about her father; an’ ’twas her 
father’s game, an’ she’d have ter talk about him if 
she did tell it. So she never told her.” 

“ Oh, I see, I see.” The old man nodded his 
head slowly. “ They was always bitter against the 
minister chap — all of ’em, ’cause he took Miss 
Jennie away from ’em. An’ Miss Polly — young 
as she was — couldn’t never forgive him ; she was 
that fond of Miss Jennie — in them days. I see, I 
see. ’Twas a bad mess,” he sighed, as he turned 
away. 

“Yes, ’twas — all ’round, all "round,” sighed 
Nancy in her turn, as she went back to her kitchen. 

For no one were those days of waiting easy. The 
nurse tried to look cheerful, but her eyes were 
troubled. The doctor was openly nervous an: impa- 
tient. Miss Polly said little ; but even the softening 
waves of hair about her face, and the becoming laces 
at her throat, could not hide the fact that she was 
growing thin and pale. As to Pollyanna — Polly- 
anna petted the dog, smoothed the cat’s sleek head, 
admired the flowers and ate the fruits and jellies 
that were sent in to her ; and returned innumerable 
cheery answers to the many messages of love and 


A Waiting Game 


257 


inquiry that were brought to her bedside. But she, 
too, grew pale and thin; and the nervous activity 
of the poor little hands and arms only emphasized 
the pitiful motionlessness of the once active little 
feet and legs now lying so woefully quiet under the 
blankets. 

As to the game — Pollyanna told Nancy these 
days how glad she was going to be when she could 
go to school again, go to see Mrs. Snow, go to call 
on Mr. Pendleton, and go to ride with Dr. Chilton : 
nor did she seem to realize that all this “ gladness ” 
was in the future, not the present. Nancy, however, 
did realize it- — and cry about it, when she was 
alone. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


A DOOR AJAR 

Just a week from the time Dr. Mead, the special- 
ist, was first expected, he came. He was a tall, 
broad-shouldered man with kind gray eyes, and a 
cheerful smile. Pollyanna liked him at once, and 
told him so. 

“ You look quite a lot like my doctor, you see,” 
she added engagingly. 

“ Your doctor?” Dr. Mead glanced in evident 
surprise at Dr. Warren, talking with the nurse a 
few feet away. Dr. Warren was a small, brown- 
eyed man with a pointed brown beard. 

“ Oh, that isn’t my doctor,” smiled Pollyanna, 
divining his thought. “ Dr. Warren is Aunt Polly’s 
doctor. My doctor is Dr. Chilton.” 

“ Oh-h ! ” said Dr. Mead, a little oddly, his eyes 
resting on Miss Polly, who, with a vivid blush, had 
turned hastily away. 

“ Yes.” Pollyanna hesitated, then continued 
with her usual truthfulness. “You see, I wanted 
Dr. Chilton all the time, but Aunt Polly wanted 
258 


A Door Ajar 


259 


you. She said you knew more than Dr. Chilton, 
anyway about — about broken legs like mine. And 
of course if you do, I can be glad for that. Do 
you ? ” 

A swift something crossed the doctor’s face that 
Pollyanna could not quite translate. 

“ Only time can tell that, little girl,” he said 
gently; then he turned a grave face toward Dr. 
Warren, who had just come to the bedside. 

Every one said afterward that it was the cat that 
did it. Certainly, if Fluffy had not poked an in- 
sistent paw and nose against Pollyanna’s unlatched 
door, the door would not have swung noiselessly 
open on its hinges until it stood perhaps a foot ajar; 
and if the door had not been open, Pollyanna would 
not have heard her aunt’s words. 

In the hall the two doctors, the nurse, and Miss 
Polly stood talking. In Pollyanna’s room Fluffy 
had just jumped to the bed with a little purring 
“ meow ” of joy when through the open door 
sounded clearly and sharply Aunt Polly’s agonized 
exclamation. 

“ Not that! Doctor, not that! You don’t mean 
— - the child — will never walk again ! ” 

It was all confusion then. First, from the bed- 


260 


Pollyanna 


room came Pollyanna’s terrified “ Aunt Polly — 
Aunt Polly ! ” Then Miss Polly, seeing the open 
door and realizing that her words had been heard, 
gave a low little moan and — for the first time in 
her life — fainted dead away. 

The nurse, with a choking “ She heard ! ” stum- 
bled toward the open door. The two doctors stayed 
with Miss Polly. Dr. Mead had to stay — he had 
caught Miss Polly as she fell. Dr. Warren stood 
by, helplessly. It was not until Pollyanna cried out 
again sharply and the nurse closed the door, that 
the two men, with a despairing glance into each 
other’s eyes, awoke to the immediate duty of bring- 
ing the woman in Dr. Mead’s arms back to unhappy 
consciousness. 

In Pollyanna’s room, the nurse had found a purr- 
ing gray cat on the bed vainly trying to attract the 
attention of a white-faced, wild-eyed little girl. 

“ Miss Hunt, please, I want Aunt Polly. I want 
her right away, quick, please ! ” 

The nurse closed the door and came forward hur- 
riedly. Her face was very pale. 

“ She — she can’t come just this minute, dear. 
She will — a little later. What is it ? Can’t I — • 
get it ? ” 

Pollyanna shook her head, 


A Door Ajar 


261 


“ But I want to know what she said — just now. 
Did you hear her? I want Aunt Polly — she said 
something. I want her to tell me ’tisn’t true — 
’tisn’t true ! ” 

The nurse tried to speak, but no words came. 
Something in her face sent an added terror to Polly- 
anna's eyes. 

“ Miss Hunt, you did hear her ! It is true ! Oh, 
it isn't true! You don’t mean I can’t ever — walk 
again ? ” 

“ There, there, dear — don’t, don’t ! ” choked 
the nurse. “ Perhaps he didn’t know. Perhaps he 
was mistaken. There’s lots of things that could 
happen, you know.” 

“ But Aunt Polly said he did know ! She said 
he knew more than anybody else about — about 
broken legs. like mine! ” 

“ Yes, yes, I know, dear; but all doctors make 
mistakes sometimes. Just — just don’t think any 
more about it now — please don’t, dear.” 

Pollyanna flung out her arms wildly. 

“ But I can’t help thinking about it,” she sobbed. 
“ It’s all there is now to think about. Why, Miss 
Hunt, how am I going to school, or to see Mr. 
Pendleton, or Mrs. Snow, or — or anybody?” 
She caught her breath and sobbed wildly for a 


Pollyanna 


moment. Suddenly she stopped and looked up, a 
new terror in her eyes. “ Why, Miss Hunt, if I 
can’t walk, how am I ever going to be glad for — • 
anything ? ” 

Miss Hunt did not know “ the game ; ” but she 
did know that her patient must be quieted, and that 
at once. In spite of her own perturbation and 
heartache, her hands had not been idle, and she 
stood now at the bedside with the quieting powder 
ready. 

“ There, there, dear, just take this,” she soothed; 
“ and by and by we’ll be more rested, and we’ll see 
what can be done then. Things aren’t half as bad 
as they seem, dear, lots of times, you know.” 

Obediently Pollyanna took the medicine, and 
sipped the water from the glass in Miss Hunt’s 
hand. 

“ I know ; that sounds like things father used 
to say,” faltered Pollyanna, blinking off the tears. 
“ He said there was always something about every- 
thing that might be worse; but I reckon he’d never 
just heard he couldn’t ever walk again. I don’t 
see how there can be anything about that, that could 
be worse — do you ? ” 

Miss Hunt did not reply. She could not trust 
herself to speak just then. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


TWO VISITS 

It was Nancy who was sent to tell Mr. John 
Pendleton of Dr. Mead’s verdict. Miss Polly had 
remembered her promise to let him have direct 
information from the house. To go herself, or to 
write a letter, she felt to be almost equally out of 
the question. It occurred to her then to send 
Nancy. 

There had been a time when Nancy would have 
rejoiced greatly at this extraordinary opportunity 
to see something of the House of Mystery and its 
master. But to-day her heart was too heavy to 
rejoice at anything. She scarcely even looked about 
her at all, indeed, during the few minutes she waited 
for Mr. John Pendleton to appear. 

“ Pm Nancy, sir,” she said respectfully, in re- 
sponse to the surprised questioning of his eyes, 
when he came into the room. “ Miss Harrington 
sent me to tell you about — Miss Pollyanna.” 

“Well?” 


263 


264 


Pollyanna 


In spite of the curt terseness of the word, Nancy 
quite understood the anxiety that lay behind that 
short “ well ? ” 

“ It ain’t well, Mr. Pendleton,” she choked. 

“You don’t mean — ” He paused, and she 
bowed her head miserably. 

“Yes, sir. He says — she can’t walk again — 
never.” 

For a moment there was absolute silence in the 
room; then the man spoke, in a voice shaken with 
emotion. 

“ Poor — little — girl ! Poor — little — girl ! ” 

Nancy glanced at him, but dropped her eyes at 
once. She had not supposed that sour, cross, stern 
John Pendleton could look like that. In a moment 
he spoke again, still in the low, unsteady voice. 

“ It seems cruel — never to dance in the sunshine 
again ! My little prism girl ! ” 

There was another silence; then, abruptly, the 
man asked: 

“ She herself doesn’t know yet — of course — 
does she ? ” 

“But she does, sir,” sobbed Nancy: “an’ that’s 
wnat makes it all the harder. She found out — 
drat that cat! I begs yer pardon,” apologized the 
girl, hurriedly. “ It’s only that the cat pushed open 


Two Visits 


265 


the door an’ Miss Pollyanna overheard ’em talkin’. 
She found out — that way.” 

“ Poor — little — girl ! ” sighed the man again. 

“Yes, sir. You’d say so, sir, if you could see 
her,” choked Nancy. “ I hain’t seen her but twice 
since she knew about it, an’ it done me up both 
times. Ye see it’s all so fresh an’ new to her, an’ 
she keeps thinkin’ all the time of new things she 
can’t do — . ,ow. It worries her, too, ’cause she 
can’t seem ter be glad — maybe you don’t know 
about her game, though,” broke off Nancy, apolo- 
getically. 

“ The ‘ glad game ’ ? ” asked the man. “ Oh, 
yes; she told me of that.” 

“ Oh, she did ! Well, I guess she has told it 
generally ter most folks. But ye see, now she — 
she can’t play it herself, an’ it worries her. She 
says she can’t think of a thing — not a thing about 
this not walkin’ again, ter be glad about.” 

“Well, why should she?” retorted the man, 
almost savagely. 

Nancy shifted her feet uneasily. 

“ That’s the way I felt, too — till I happened 
ter think — it would be easier if she could find 
somethin’, ye know. So I tried to — to remind 
her.” 


266 


Pollyanna 


“ To remind her! Of what? ” John Pendleton’s 
voice was still angrily impatient. 

“ Of — of how she told others ter play it — 
Mis’ Snow, and the rest, ye know — and what she 
said for them ter do. But the poor little lamb just 
cries, an’ says it don’t seem the same, somehow. 
She says it’s easy ter tell lifelong invalids how ter 
be glad, but ’tain’t the same thing when youhe the 
lifelong invalid yerself, an’ have ter try ter do it. 
She says she’s told herself over an’ over again how 
glad she is that other folks ain’t like her; but that 
all the time she’s sayin’ it, she ain’t really thinkin ' 
of anythin’ only how she can’t ever walk again.” 

Nancy paused, but the man did not speak. He 
sat with his hand over his eyes. 

“ Then I tried ter remind her how she used ter 
say the game was all the nicer ter play when — 
when it was hard,” resumed Nancy, in a dull voice. 
“ But she says that, too, is diff’rent — when it really 
is hard. An’ I must be goin’, now, sir,” she broke 
off abruptly. 

At the door she hesitated, turned, and asked tim- 
idly : 

“ I couldn’t be tellin’ Miss Pollyanna that — 
that you’d seen Jimmy Bean again, I s’pose, sir, 
could I?” 


Two Visits 


267 


“ I don’t see how you could — as I haven’t seen 
him,” observed the man a little shortly. “ Why? ” 

“ Nothin’, sir, only — well, ye see, that’s one of 
the things that she was feelin’ bad about, that she 
couldn’t take him ter see you, now. She said she’d 
taken him once, but she didn’t think he showed 
off very well that day, and that she was afraid you 
didn't think he would make a very nice child’s pres- 
ence, after all. Maybe you know what she means 
by that; but I didn’t, sir.” 

“ Yes, I know — what she means.” 

“ All right, sir. It was only that she was wantin’ 
ter take him again, she said, so’s ter show ye he 
really was a lovely child’s presence. And now she 
— can’t ! — drat that autymobile ! I begs yer par- 
don, sir. Good-by!” And Nancy fled precipi- 
tately. 

It did not take long for the entire town of Bel- 
dingsville to learn that the great New York doctor 
had said Pollyanna Whittier would never walk 
again; and certainly never before had the town 
been so stirred. Everybody knew by sight now the 
piquant little freckled face that had always a smile 
of greeting; and almost everybody knew of the 
“game” that Pollyanna was ‘ playing. To think 


268 


Pollyanna 


that now never again would that smiling face be 
seen on their streets — never again would that 
cheery little voice proclaim the gladness of some 
everyday experience! It seemed unbelievable, im- 
possible, cruel. 

In kitchens and sitting rooms, and over back-yard 
fences women talked of it, and wept openly. On 
street corners and in store lounging-places the men 
talked, too, and wept — though not so openly. And 
neither the talking nor the weeping grew less when 
fast on the heels of the news itself, came Nancy’s 
pitiful story that Pollyanna, face to face with what 
had come to her, was bemoaning most of all the fact 
that she could not play the game; that she could 
not now be glad over — anything. 

It was then that the same thought must have, 
in some way, come to Pollyanna’s friends. At all 
events, almost at once, the mistress of the Harring- 
ton homestead, greatly to her surprise, began to 
receive calls : calls from people she knew, and peo- 
ple she did not know; calls from men, women, and 
children — many of whom Miss Polly had not sup- 
posed that her niece knew at all. 

Some came in and sat down for a stiff five or ten 
minutes. Some stood awkwardly on the porch 
steps, fumbling with hats or hand-bags, according 


Two Visits 


m 


to their sex. Some brought a book, a bunch of 
flowers, or a dainty to tempt the palate. Some 
cried frankly. Some turned their backs and blew 
their noses furiously. But all inquired very anx- 
iously for the little injured girl; and all sent to 
her some message — and it was these messages 
which, after a time, stirred Miss Polly to action. 

First came Mr. John Pendleton. He came with- 
out his crutches to-day. 

“ I don’t need to tell you how shocked I am,” he 
began almost harshly. “ But can — nothing be 
done ? ” 

Miss Polly gave a gesture of despair. 

“ Oh, we’re ‘ doing,’ of course, all the time. Dr. 
Mead prescribed certain treatments and medicines 
that might help, and Dr. Warren is carrying them 
out to the letter, of course. But — Dr. Mead held 
out almost no hope.” 

John Pendleton rose abruptly — though he had 
but just come. His face was white, and his mouth 
was set into stern lines. Miss Polly, looking at 
him, knew very well why he felt that he could not 
stay longer in her presence. At the door he turned. 

“ I have a message for Pollyanna,” he said. 
“ Will you tell her, please, that I have seen Jimmy 
Bean and — that he’s going to be my boy hereafter. 


270 


Pollyanna 


Tell her I thought she would be — glad to know. 
I shall adopt him, probably.” 

For a brief moment Miss Polly lost her usual 
well-bred self-control. 

“ You will adopt Jimmy Bean! ” she gasped. 

The man lifted his chin a little. 

“ Yes. I think Pollyanna will understand. You 
will tell her I thought she would be — glad?” 

tS Why, of — of course,” faltered Miss Polly. 

“ Thank you,” bowed John Pendleton, as he 
turned to go. 

In the middle of the floor Miss Polly stood, si- 
lent and amazed, still looking after the man who 
had just left her. Even yet she could scarcely be- 
lieve what her ears had heard. John Pendleton 
adopt Jimmy Bean? John Pendleton, wealthy, in- 
dependent, morose, reputed to be miserly and su- 
premely selfish, to adopt a little boy — and such a 
little boy? 

With a somewhat dazed face Miss Polly went 
up-stairs to Pollyanna’s room. 

“ Pollyanna, I have a message for you from Mr. 
John Pendleton. He has just been here. He says 
to tell you he has taken Jimmy Bean for his little 
boy. He said he thought you’d be glad to know 
it ” 


Two Visits 


271 


Pollyanna’s wistful little face flamed into sudden 
joy. 

“ Glad? Glad? Well, I reckon I am glad! Oh, 
Aunt Polly, I’ve so wanted to find a place for Jimmy 
— and that’s such a lovely place ! Besides, I’m so 
glad for Mr. Pendleton, too. You see, now he’ll 
have the child’s presence.” 

“ The — what?” 

Pollyanna colored painfully. She had forgotten 
that she had never told her aunt of Mr. Pendleton’s 
desire to adopt her — and certainly she would not 
wish to tell her now that she had ever thought for 
a 'minute of leaving her — this dear Aunt Polly ! 

“ The child’s presence,” stammered Pollyanna, 
hastily. “ Mr. Pendleton told me once, you see, 
that only a woman’s hand and heart or a child’s 
presence could make a — a home. And now he’s 
got it — the child’s presence.” 

“ Oh, I — see,” said Miss Polly very gently ; and 
she did see — more than Pollyanna realized. She 
saw something of the pressure that was probably 
brought to bear on Pollyanna herself at the time 
John Pendleton was asking her to be the “ child’s 
presence,” which was to transform his great pile 
of gray stone into a home. “ I see,” she finished, 
her eyes stinging with sudden tears. 


Foiiyanna 




Pollyanna, fearful that her aunt might ask fur- 
ther embarrassing questions, hastened to lead the 
conversation away from the Pendleton house and 
its master. 

“ Dr. Chilton says so, too — that it takes a 
woman’s hand and heart, or a child’s presence, to 
make a home, you know,” she remarked. 

Miss Polly turned with a start. 

“Dr. Chilton! How do you know — that?” 

“ He told me so. ’Twas when he said he lived 
In just rooms, you know — not a home.” 

Miss Polly did not answer. Her eyes were out 
the window. 

“ So I asked him why he didn’t get ’em — a 
woman’s hand and heart, and have a home.” 

“ Pollyanna ! ” Miss Polly had turned sharply. 
Her cheeks showed a sudden color. 

“ Well, I did. He looked so — so sorrow- 
ful.” 

“ What did he — say?” Miss Polly asked the 
question as if in spite of some force within her 
that was urging her not to ask it. 

“ He didn’t say anything for a minute ; then he 
said very Tow that you couldn’t always get ’em for 
the asking.” 

There was a brief silence. Miss Polly’s eyes had 


Two Visits 


£73 


turned again to the window. Her cheeks were still 
unnaturally pink. 

Pollyanna sighed. 

“ He wants one, anyhow, I know, and I wish 
he could have one/' 

“ Why, Pollyanna, how do you know ? ” 

“ Because, afterwards, on another day, he said 
something else. He said that low, too, but I heard 
him. He said that he’d give all the world if he 
did have one woman’s hand and heart. Why, 
Aunt Polly, what’s the matter ? ” Aunt Polly had 
risen hurriedly and gone to the window. 

“ Nothing, dear. I was changing the position 
of this prism,” said Aunt Polly, whose whole face 
now was aflame. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE GAME AND ITS PLAYERS 

It was not long after John Pendleton’s second 
visit that Milly Snow called one afternoon. Milly 
Snow had never before been to the Harrington 
homestead. She blushed and looked very embar- 
rassed when Miss Polly entered the room. 

“ I — I came to inquire for the little girl,” she 
stammered. 

“ You are very kind. She is about the same. 
How is your mother?” rejoined Miss Polly, 
wearily. 

“ That is what I came to tell you — that is, to 
ask you to tell Miss Pollyanna,” hurried on the 
girl, breathlessly and incoherently. “ We think it’s 
— so awful — so perfectly awful that the little 
thing can’t ever walk again; and after all she’s 
done for us, too — for mother, you know, teaching 
her to play the game, and all that. And when we 
heard how now she couldn’t play it herself — poor 
little dear ! I’m sure I don’t see how she can , either, 
in her condition! — but when we remembered all 
274 


The Game and Its Players 275 


the things she’d said to us, we thought if she could 
only know what she had done for us, that it would 
help, you know, in her own case, about the game, 
because she could be glad — that is, a little glad — ” 
Milly stopped helplessly, and seemed to be waiting 
for Miss Polly to speak. 

Miss Polly had sat politely listening, but with a 
puzzled questioning in her eyes. Only about half 
of what had been said, had she understood. She 
was thinking now that she always had known that 
Milly Snow was “ queer,” but she had not supposed 
she was crazy. In no other way, however, could 
she account for this incoherent, illogical, unmean- 
ing rush of words. When the pause came she filled 
it with a quiet : 

“ I don’t think I quite understand, Milly. Just 
what is it that you want me to tell my niece? ” 

“ Yes, that’s it; I want you to tell her,” answered 
the girl, feverishly. “ Make her see what she’s done 
for us. Of course she’s seen some things, because 
she’s been there, and she’s known mother is differ- 
ent ; but I want her to know how different she is — 
and me, too. I’m different. I’ve been trying^ to 
play it — the game — a little.” 

Miss Polly frowned. She would have asked what 
Milly meant by this “ game,” but there was no 


276 


Pollyanna 


opportunity. Milly was rushing on again with 
nervous volubility. 

“ You know nothing was ever right before — 
for mother. She was always wanting ’em different. 
And, really, I don’t know as one could blame her 
much — * under the circumstances. But now she lets 
me keep the shades up, and she takes interest in 
things — how she looks, and her nightdress, and 
all that. And she’s actually begun to knit little 
things — reins and baby blankets for fairs and 
hospitals. And she's so interested, and so glad to 
think she can do it ! * — and that was all Miss Polly- 
anna’s doings, you know, ’cause she told mother 
she could be glad she’d got her hands and arms, 
anyway ; and that made mother wonder right away 
why she didn’t do something with her hands and 
arms. And so she began to do something — to 
knit, you know. And you can’t think what a dif- 
ferent room it is now, what with the red and blue 
and yellow worsteds, and the prisms in the win- 
dow that she gave her — why, it actually makes 
you feel better just to go in there now; and before 
I used to dread it awfully, it was so dark and 
gloomy, and mother was so — so unhappy, you 
know. 

" And so we want you to please tell Miss Polly* 


The Game and Its Players 277 


anna that we understand it’s all because of her. 
And please say we’re so glad we know her, that we 
thought, maybe if she knew it, it would make her 
a little glad that she knew us. And — and that’s 
all,” sighed Milly, rising hurriedly to her feet. 
“ You’ll tell her?” 

“ Why, of course,” murmured Miss Polly, won- 
dering just how much of this remarkable discourse 
she could remember to tell. 

These visits of John Pendleton and Milly Snow 
were only the first of many; and always there were 
the messages — the messages which were in some 
ways so curious that they caused Miss Polly more 
and more to puzzle over them. 

One day there was the little Widow Benton. 
Miss Polly knew her well, though they had never 
called upon each other. By reputation she knew 
her as the saddest little woman in town — one who 
was always in black. To-day, however, Mrs. Ben- 
ton wore a knot of pale blue at the throat, though 
there were tears in her eyes. She spoke of her 
grief and horror at the accident; then she asked 
diffidently if she might see Pollyanna. 

Miss Polly shook her head. 

“ I am sorry, but she sees no one yet. A littl 
later — perhaps/' 


278 


Pollyanna 


Mrs. Benton wiped her eyes, rose, and turned 
to go. But after she had almost reached the hall 
door she came back hurriedly. 

“ Miss Harrington, perhaps you’d give her — a 
message,” she stammered. 

“ Certainly, Mrs. Benton ; I shall be very glad 
to.” 

Still the little woman hesitated; then she spoke. 

*' Will you tell her, please, that — that I’ve put 
on this” she said, just touching the blue" bow at 
her throat. Then, at Miss Polly’s ill-concealed look 
✓ of surprise, she added : “ The little girl has been 
trying for so long to make me wear — some color, 
that I thought she’d be — glad to know I’d begun. 
She said that Freddy would be so glad to see it, 
if I would. You know Freddy’s oil I have now. 
The others have all — ” Mrs. Benton shook her 
head and turned away. “ If you’ll just tell Polly- 
anna — she'll understand.” And the door closed 
after her. 

A little later, that same day, there was the other 
widow — at least, she wore widow’s garments. 
Miss Polly did not know her at all. She wondered 
vaguely how Pollyanna could have known her. The 
lady gave her name as “ Mrs. Tarbell.” 

/ “ I’m a stranger to you, of course,” she began 


The Game and Its Players 279 


at once. “ But I’m not a stranger to your little 
niece, Pollyanna. I’ve been at the hotel all summer, 
and every day I’ve had to take long walks for my 
health. It was on these walks that I’ve met your 
niece — she’s such a dear little girl ! I wish I could 
make you understand what she’s been to me. I was 
very sad when I came up here ; and her bright face 
and cheery ways reminded me of — my own little 
girl that I lost years ago. I was so shocked to hear 
of the accident; and then when I learned that the 
poor child would never walk again, and that she 
was so unhappy because she couldn’t be glad any 
longer — the dear child ! — I just had to come to 
you.” 

“ You are very kind,” murmured Miss Polly. 

“ But it is you who are to be kind,” demurred the 
other. “ I — I want you to give her a message 
from me. Will you? ” 

“ Certainly.” 

“ Will you just tell her, then, that Mrs. Tarbell 
is glad now. Yes, I know it sounds odd, and you 
don’t understand. But — if you’ll pardon me I’d 
rather not explain.” Sad lines came to the lady’s 
mouth, and the smile left her eyes. “ Your niece 
will know just what I mean ; and I felt that I must 
tell — her. Thank you; and pardon me, please, 


280 


Pollyanna 


for any seeming rudeness in my call/’ she begged, 
as she took her leave. 

Thoroughly mystified now, Miss Polly hurried 
up-stairs to Pollyanna’s room. 

" Pollyanna, do you know a Mrs. Tarbell?” 

“ Oh, yes. I love Mrs. Tarbell. She’s sick, and 
awfully sad; and she’s at the hotel, and takes long 
walks. We go together. I mean — we used to.” 
Pollyanna’s voice broke, and two big tears rolled 
down her cheeks. 

Miss Polly cleared her throat hurriedly. 

"Well, she’s just been here, dear. She left a 
message for you — but she wouldn’t tell me what 
it meant. She said to tell you that Mrs. Tarbell 
is glad now.” 

Pollyanna clapped her hands softly. ^ 

" Did she say that — really ? Oh, I’m so glad ! ” 

“ But, Pollyanna, what did she mean ? ” 

" Why, it’s the game, and — ” Pollyanna 
stopped short, her fingers to her lips. 

"What game?” 

" N-nothing much, Aunt Polly; that is — I san’t 
tell it unless I tell other things that — that I’m not 
to speak of.” 

It was on Miss Polly’s tongue to question her 
nkce further; but the obvious distress on the little 


The Game and Its Players 281 

girl’s face stayed the words before they were ut- 
tered. 

Not long after Mrs. Tarbell’s visit, the climax 
came. It came in the shape of a call from a certain 
young woman with unnaturally pink cheeks and 
abnormally yellow hair ; a young woman who wore 
high heels and cheap jewelry; a young woman 
whom Miss Polly knew very well by reputation — 
but whom she was angrily amazed to meet beneath 
the roof of the Harrington homestead. 

Miss Polly did not offer her hand. She drew 
back, indeed, as she entered the room. 

The woman rose at once. Her eyes were very 
red, as if she had been crying. Half defiantly she 
asked if she might, for a moment, see the little 
girl, Pollyanna. 

Miss Polly said no. She began to say it very 
sternly; but something in the woman’s pleading 
eyes made her add the civil explanation that no one 
was allowed yet to see Pollyanna. 

The woman hesitated; then a little brusquely she 
spoke. Her chin was still at a slightly defiant 
tilt. 

“ My name is Mrs. Payson — Mrs. Tom Payson. 
I presume you’ve heard of me — most of the good 
people in the town have — and maybe some of the 


282 


Pollyanna 


things you’ve heard ain’t true. But never mind 
that. It’s about the little girl I came. I heard about 
the accident, and — and it broke me all up. Last 
week I heard how she couldn’t ever walk again, 
and — and I wished I could give up my two use- 
lessly well legs for hers. She’d do more good 
trotting around on ’em one hour than I could in 
a hundred years. But never mind that. Legs ain’t 
always given to the one who can make the best use 
of ’em, I notice.” 

She paused, and cleared her throat ; but when she 
resumed her voice was still husky. 

“ Maybe you don’t know it, but I’ve seen a good 
deal of that little girl of yours. We live on the Pen- 
dleton Hill road, and she used to go by often — 
only she didn’t always go by. She came in and 
played with the kids and talked to me — and my 
man, when he was home. She seemed to like it, 
and to like us. She didn’t know, I suspect, that 
her kind of folks don’t generally call on my kind. 
Maybe if they did call more, Miss Harrington, 
there wouldn’t be so many — of my kind,” she 
added, with sudden bitterness. 

“ Be that as it may, she came ; and she didn’t 
do herself no harm, and she did do us good — a 
lot o’ good. How much she won’t know — nor 


The Game and Its Players 283 


can’t know, I hope; ’cause if she did, she’d know 
other things — that I don’t want her to know. 

“ But it’s just this. It’s been hard times with 
us this year, in more ways than one. We’ve been 
blue and discouraged — my man and me, and ready 
for — ’most anything. We was reckoning on get- 
ting a divorce about now, and letting the kids — 
well, we didn’t know what we would do with the 
kids. Then came the accident, and what we heard 
about the little girl’s never walking again. And 
we got to thinking how she used to come and sit 
on our doorstep and train with the kids, and laugh, 
and — and just be glad. She was always being 
glad about something; and then, one day, she told 
us why, and about the game, you know ; and tried 
to coax us to play it. 

“ Well, we’ve heard now that she’s fretting her 
poor little life out of her, because she can’t play 
it no more — that there’s nothing to be glad about. 
And that’s what I came to tell her to-day — that 
maybe she can be a little glad for us, ’cause we’ve 
decided to stick to each other, and play the game 
ourselves. I knew she would be glad, because she 
used to feel kind of bad — at things we said, some- 
times. Just how the game is going to help us, I 
can’t say that I exactly see, yet; but maybe ’twill. 


284 


Pollyanna 


Anyhow, we’re going to try — ’cause she wanted 
us to. Will you tell her? ” 

“ Yes, I will tell her,” promised Miss Polly, a 
little faintly. Then, with sudden impulse, she 
stepped forward and held out her hand. “ And 
thank you for coming, Mrs. Payson,” she said 
simply. 

The defiant chin fell. The lips above it trembled 
visibly. With an incoherently mumbled something, 
Mrs. Payson blindly clutched at the outstretched 
hand, turned, and fled. 

The door had scarcely closed behind her before 
Miss Polly was confronting Nancy in the kitchen. 

“ Nancy!” 

Miss Polly spoke sharply. The series of puzzling, 
disconcerting visits of the last few days, culmina- 
ting as they had in the extraordinary experience of 
the afternoon, had strained her nerves to the snap- 
ping point. Not since Miss Pollyanna’s accident 
had Nancy heard her mistress speak so sternly. 

“ Nancy, will you tell me what this absurd 
* game ’ is that the whole town seems to be babbling 
about? And what, please, has my niece to do with 
it? Why does everybody, from Milly Snow to Mrs. 
Tom Payson, send word to her that they’re ‘ playing 
it’? As near as I can judge, half the town are 


The Game and Its Players 285 


putting on blue ribbons, or stopping family quarrels, 
or learning to like something they never liked be- 
fore, and all because of Pollyanna. I tried to ask 
the child herself about it, but I can’t seem to make 
much headway, and of course I don’t like to worry 
her — now. But from something I heard her say 
to you last night, I should judge you were one of 
them, too. Now will you tell me what it all 
means ? ” 

To Miss Polly’s surprise and dismay, Nancy 
burst into tears. 

“ It means that ever since last June that blessed 
child has jest been makin’ the whole town glad, 
an’ now they’re turnin’ ’round an’ tryin’ ter make 
her a little glad, too.” 

“ Glad of what?” 

“ Just glad ! That’s the game.” 

Miss Polly actually stamped her foot. 

“ There you go like all the rest, Nancy. What 
game ? ” 

Nancy lifted her chin. She faced her mistress 
and looked her squarely in the eye. 

“ I’ll tell ye, ma’am. It’s a game Miss Polly- 
anna’s father learned her ter play. She got a pair 
of crutches once in a missionary barrel when she 
was wantin’ a doll; an’ she cried, of course, like 


Pollyanna 


28 tf 


any child would. It seems ’twas then her father 
told her that there wasn’t ever anythin’ but what 
there was somethin’ about it that you could be glad 
about ; an’ that she could be glad about them 
crutches.” 

“ Glad for — crutches! ” Miss Polly choked 
back a sob — she was thinking of the helpless little 
legs on the bed up-stairs. 

“ Yes’m. That’s what I said, an’ Miss Pollyanna 
said that’s what she said, too. But he told her she 
could be glad — ’cause she didn't need 'em." 

“ Oh-h ! ” cried Miss Polly. 

“ And after that she said he made a regular game 
of it — findin’ somethin’ in everythin’ ter be glad 
about. An’ she said ye could do it, too, and that 
ye didn’t seem ter mind not havin’ the doll so much, ' 
’cause ye was so glad ye didn't need the crutches. 
An’ they called it the ‘ jest bein’ glad ’ game. 
That’s the game, ma’am. She’s played it ever 
since.” 

“ But, how — how — ” Miss Polly came to a 
helpless pause. 

“ An’ you’d be surprised ter find how cute it 
works, ma’am, too,” maintained Nancy, with al- 
most the eagerness of Pollyanna herself. “ I wish 
I could tell ye what a lot she’s done for mother an’ 


The Game and Its Players 28? 


the folks out home. She’s been ter see ’em, ye 
know, twice, with me. She’s made me glad, too, 
on such a lot o’ things — ■ little things, an’ big 
things; an’ it’s made ’em so much easier. For 
instance, I don’t mind ‘ Nancy ’ for a name half as 
much since she told me I could be glad ’twa’n’t 
* Hephzibah.’ An’ there’s Monday mornin’s, too, 
that I used ter hate so. She’s actually made me glad 
for Monday mornin’s.” 

“ Glad — for Monday mornings ! ” 

Nancy laughed. 

“ I know it does sound nutty, ma’am. But let 
me tell ye. That blessed lamb found out I hated 
Monday mornin’s somethin’ awful; an’ what does 
she up an’ tell me one day but this : ‘ Well, anyhow, 
Nancy, I should think you could be gladder on 
Monday mornin’ than on any other day in the 
week, because ’twould be a whole week before 
you’d have another one! ’ An’ I’m blest if I hain’t 
thought of it ev’ry Monday mornin’ since — an’ it 
has helped, ma’am. It made me laugh, anyhow, 
ev’ry time I thought of it; an’ laughin’ helps, ye 
know — it does, it does ! ” 

“ But why hasn’t — she told me — the game? ” 
faltered Miss Polly. “ Why has she made such a 
inystery of it, when I asked her? ” 


Pollyanna 


Nancy hesitated. 

“ Beggin’ yer pardon, ma’am, you told her not 
ter speak of — her father; so she couldn’t tell ye. 
Twas her father’s game, ye see.” 

Miss Polly bit her lip. 

“ She wanted ter tell ye, first off,” continued 
Nancy, a little unsteadily. “ She wanted somebody 
ter play it with, ye know. That’s why I begun it, 
— so she could have some one.” 

“ And — and — these others ? ” Miss Polly’s 
voice shook now. 

“ Oh, ev’rybody, ’most, knows it now, I guess. 
Anyhow, I should think they did from the way 
I’m hearin’ of it ev’rywhere I go. Of course she 
told a lot, and they told the rest. Them things go, 
ye know, when they gets started. An’ she was 
always so smilin’ an’ pleasant ter ev’ry one, an’ 
so — so jest glad herself all the time, that they 
couldn’t help knowin’ it, anyhow. Now, since she’s 
hurt, ev’rybody feels so bad — specially when they 
heard how bad she feels ’cause she can’t find any- 
thin’ ter be glad about. An’ so they've been cornin’ 
ev’ry day ter tell her how glad she’s made them, 
hopin’ that’ll help some. Ye see, she’s always 
wanted ev’rybody ter play the game with her.” 

“ Well. I know somebody who’ll play it — now,” 


The Game and Its Players 289 


choked Miss Polly, as she turned and sped through 
the kitchen doorway. 

Behind her, Nancy stood staring amazedly. 

“ Well, I’ll believe anythin’ — anythin’ now,” she 
muttered to herself. “ Ye can’t stump me with any- 
thin’ I wouldn’t believe now — o’ Miss Polly ! ” 

A little later, in Pollyanna’s roc n, the nurse left 
Miss Polly and Pollyanna alone together. 

“ And you’ve had still another caller to-day, my 
dear,” announced Miss Polly, in a voice she vainly 
tried to steady. “ Do you remember Mrs. Pay- 
son? ” 

“ Mrs. Payson ? Why, I reckon I do ! She lives 
on fhe way to Mr. Pendleton’s, and she’s got the 
prettiest little girl baby three years old, and a boy 
’most five. She’s awfully nice, and so’s her hus- 
band — only they don’t seem to know how nice 
each other is. Sometimes they fight — I mean, 
they don’t quite agree. They’re poor, too, they 
say, and of course they don’t ever have barrels, 
’cause he isn’t a missionary minister, you know, 
like — well, he isn’t.” 

A faint color stole into Pollyanna’s cheeks which 
was duplicated suddenly in those of her aunt. 

“ But she wears real pretty clothes, sometimes, in 
spite of their being so poor,” resumed Pollyanna, in 


290 


Pollyanna 


9 


some haste. “ And she’s got perfectly beautiful 
rings with diamonds and rubies and emeralds in 
them; but she says she’s got one ring too many, 
and that she’s going to throw it away and get a 
divorce instead. What is a divorce, Aunt Polly? 
I’m afraid it isn’t very nice, because she didn’t look 
happy when she talked about it. And she said if 
she did get it, they wouldn’t live there any more, and 
that Mr. Payson would go ’way off, and maybe the 
children, too. But I should think they’d rather 
keep the ring, even if they did have so many more. 
Shouldn’t you? Aunt Polly, what is a divorce?” 

“ But they aren’t going ’way off, dear,” evaded 
Aunt Polly, hurriedly. “ They’re going to stay 
right there together.” 

“ Oh, I’m so glad ! Then they’ll be there when 
I go up to see — O dear ! ” broke off the little girl, 
miserably. “Aunt Polly, why can’t I remember 
that my legs don’t go any more, and that I won’t 
ever, ever go up to see Mr. Pendleton again?” 

“ There, there, don’t,” choked her aunt. “ Per- 
haps you’ll drive up sometime. But listen! I 
haven’t told you, yet, all that Mrs. Payson said. 
She wanted me to tell you that they — they were 
going to stay together and to play the game, just 
as you wanted them to.” 


The Game and Its Players £91 


Pollyanna smiled through tear-wet eyes. 

“ Did they? Did they, really? Oh, I am glad of 
that ! ” 

“ Yes, she said she hoped you’d be. That’s why 
she told you, to make you — glad , Pollyanna.” 

Pollyanna looked up quickly. 

“ Why, Aunt Polly, you — you spoke just as if 
you knew — Do you know about the game, Aunt 
Polly? ” 

“ Yes, dear.” Miss Polly sternly forced her 
voice to be cheerfully matter-of-fact. “ Nancy 
told me. I think it’s a beautiful game. I’m going 
to play it now — with you.” 

“ Oh, Aunt Polly — you f I’m so glad! You 
see, I’ve really wanted you most of anybody, all the 
time.” 

Aunt Polly caught her breath a little sharply. It 
was even harder this time to keep her voice steady ; 
but she did it. 

“Yes, dear; and there are all those others, too. 
Why, Pollyanna, I think all the town is playing that 
game now with you — even to the minister ! I 
haven’t had a chance to tell you, yet, but this morn- 
ing I met Mr. Ford when I was down to the village, 
and he told me to say to you that just as soon as 
you could see him, he was coming to tell you that 


292 


Pollyanna 


he hadn’t stopped being glad over those eight hun- 
dred rejoicing texts that you told him about. So 
you see, dear, it’s just you that have done it. The 
whole town is playing the game, and the whole 
town is wonderfully happier — and all because of 
one little girl who taught the people a new game, 
and how to play it.” 

Pollyanna clapped her hands. 

“ Oh, I’m so glad,” she cried. Then, suddenly, a 
wonderful light illumined her face. “ Why, Aunt 
Polly, there is something I can be glad about, after 
all. I can be glad I’ve had my legs, anyway — else 
I couldn’t have done — that ! ” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


THROUGH AN OPEN WINDOW 

One by one the short winter days came and went 
— but they were not short to Pollyanna. They 
were long, and sometimes full of pain. Very reso- 
lutely, these days, however, Pollyanna was turning 
a cheerful face toward whatever came. Was she 
not specially bound to play the game, now that Aunt 
Polly was playing it, too? And Aunt Polly found 
so many things to be glad 'about! It was Aunt 
Polly, too, who discovered the story one day about 
the two poor little waifs in a snow-storm who found 
a blown-down door to crawl under, and who won- 
dered what poor folks did that didn’t have any 
door! And it was Aunt Polly who brought home 
the other story that she had heard about the poor 
old lady who had only two teeth, but who was so 
glad that those two teeth “ hit ” ! 

Pollyanna now, like Mrs. Snow, was knitting 
wonderful things out of bright colored worsteds 
£93 


Pollyanna 


294 


that trailed their cheery lengths across the white 
spread, and made Pollyanna — again like Mrs. 
Snow — so glad she had her hands and arms, any- 
way. 

Pollyanna saw people now, occasionally, and al- 
ways there were the loving messages from those 
she could not see; and always they brought her 
something new to think about — and Pollyanna 
needed new things to think about. 

Once she had seen John Pendleton, and twice she 
had seen Jimmy Bean. John Pendleton had told 
her what a fine boy Jimmy was getting to be, and 
how well he was doing. Jimmy had told her what 
a first-rate home he had, and what bang-up “ folks ” 
Mr. Pendleton made ; and both had said that it waa 
all owing to her. 

“ Which makes me all the gladder, you know* 
that I have had my legs,” Pollyanna confided to her 
aunt afterwards. 

The winter passed, and spring came. The anx- 
ious watchers over Pollyanna’s condition could see 
little change wrought by the prescribed treatment. 
There seemed every reason to believe, indeed, that 
Dr. Mead’s worst fears would be realized — that 
Pollyanna would never walk again. 


Through an Open Window 29a 


Beldingsville, of course, kept itself informed con- 
cerning Pollyanna; and of Beldingsville, one man 
in particular fumed and fretted himself into a fever 
of anxiety over the daily bulletins which he man- 
aged in some way to procure from the bed of suf- 
fering. As the days passed, however, and the news 
came to be no better, but rather worse, something 
besides anxiety began to show in the man’s face: 
despair, and a very dogged determination, each 
fighting for the mastery. In the end, the dogged 
determination won; and it was then that Mr. John 
Pendleton, somewhat to his surprise, received one 
Saturday morning a call from Dr. Thomas Chil- 
ton. 

“ Pendleton,” began the doctor, abruptly, “ I’ve 
come to you because you, better than any one else 
in town, know something of my relations with Miss 
Polly Harrington.” 

John Pendleton was conscious that he must have 
started visibly — he did know something of the 
affair between Polly Harrington and Thomas Chil- 
ton, but the matter had not been mentioned between 
them for fifteen years, or more. 

“ Yes,” he said, trying to make his voice sound 
concerned enough for sympathy, and not eager 
enough for curiosity. In a moment he saw that he 


l 


296 


Pollyanna 


need not have worried, however: the doctor was 
quite too intent on his errand to notice how that 
errand was received. 

“ Pendleton, I want to see that child. I want to 
make an examination. I must make an examina- 
tion.” 

“ Well — can’t you?” 

" Can’t I ! Pendleton, you know very well I 
haven’t been inside that door for more than fifteen 
years. You don’t know — but I will tell you — 
that the mistress of that house told me that the next 
time she asked me to enter it, I might take it that 
she was begging my pardon, and that all would be 
as before — which meant that she’d marry me. 
Perhaps you see her summoning me now — but I 
don’t!” 

“ But couldn’t you go — without a sum- 
mons ? ” 

The doctor frowned. 

“ Well, hardly. I have some pride, you 
know.” 

“ But if you’re so anxious — couldn’t you swal- 
low your pride and forget the quarrel — ” 

“ Forget the quarrel ! ” interrupted the doctor, 
savagely. “ I’m not talking of that kind of pride. 
So far as that is concerned, I’d go from here there 


Through an Open Window 297 


on my knees — or on my head — if that would do 
any good. It’s professional pride I’m talking 
about. It’s a case of sickness, and I’m a doc- 
tor. I can’t butt in and say, ‘ Here, take me ! ’ — 
can I?” 

“ Chilton, what was the quarrel ? ” demanded 
Pendleton. 

The doctor made an impatient gesture, and got to 
his feet. 

“ What was it ? What’s any lovers’ quarrel — 
after it’s over?” he snarled, pacing the room an- 
grily. “ A silly wrangle over the size of the moon 
or the depth of a river, maybe — it might as well 
be, so far as its having any real significance com- 
pared to the years of misery that follow them! 
Never mind the quarrel ! So far as I am concerned, 
I am willing to say there was no quarrel. Pendle- 
ton, I must see that child. It may mean life or 
death. It will mean — I honestly believe — nine 
chances out of ten that Pollyanna Whittier will 
walk again ! ” 

The words were spoken clearly, impressively; 
and they were spoken just as the one who uttered 
them had almost reached the open window near 
John Pendleton’s chair. Thus it happened that 
very distinctly they reached the ears of a small boy 


m 


Pollyanna 


kneeling beneath the window on the ground out- 
side. 

Jimmy Bean, at his Saturday morning task of 
pulling up the first little green weeds of the flower- 
beds, sat up with ears and eyes wide open. 

“Walk! Pollyanna!” John Pendleton was say- 
ing. “ What do you mean ? ” 

“ I mean that from what I can hear and learn — - 
a mile from her bedside — that her case is very 
much like one that a college friend of mine has just 
helped. For years he’s been making this sort of 
thing a special study. I’ve kept in touch with him, 
and studied, too, in a way. And from what I hear 
— but I want to see the girl ! ” 

John Pendleton came erect in his chair. 

“ You must see her, man ! Couldn’t you — say, 
through Dr. Warren?” 

The other shook his head. 

“ I’m afraid not. Warren has been very decent, 
though. He told me himself that he suggested con- 
sultation with me at the first, but — Miss Harring- 
ton said no so decisively that he didn’t dare venture 
it again, even though he knew of my desire to see 
the child. Lately, some of his best patients have 
come over to me — so of course that ties my hands 
still more effectually. But, Pendleton, I’ve got to 


Through an Open Window 299 


see that child! Think of what it may mean to her 
— if I do! ” 

“ Yes, and think of what it will mean — if you 
don’t ! ” retorted Pendleton. 

“ But how can I — without a direct request from 
her aunt? — which I’ll never get!” 

“ She must be made to ask you ! ” 

“ How?” 

“ I don’t know.” 

“No, I guess you don’t — nor anybody else. 
She’s too proud and too angry to ask me — after 
what she said years ago it would mean if she did 
ask me. But when I think of that child, doomed 
to lifelong misery, and when I think that maybe in 
my hands lies a chance of escape, but for that con- 
founded nonsense we call pride and professional 
etiquette, I — ” He did not finish his sentence, but 
with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, he 
turned and began to tramp up and down the room 
again, angrily. 

“ But if she could be made to see — to under- 
stand,” urged John Pendleton. 

“ Yes; and who’s going to do it? ” demanded the 
doctor, with a savage turn. 

“ I don’t know, I don’t know,” groaned the other, 
miserably. 


300 


Pollyanna 


Outside the window Jimmy Bean stirred sud- 
denly. Up to now he had scarcely breathed, so in- 
tently had he listened to every word. 

“ Well, by Jinks, I know ! ” he whispered, exult- 
ingly. “ I’m a-goin’ ter do it ! ” And forthwith he 
rose to his feet, crept stealthily around the corner 
of the house, and ran with all his might down Pern 
dleton Hill 


CHAPTER XXX 


JIMMY TAKES THE HELM 

“ It’s Jimmy Bean. He wants ter see ye, 
ma’am,” announced Nancy in the doorway. 

“Me?” rejoined Miss Polly, plainly surprised. 
“Are you sure he did not mean Miss Pollyanna? 
He may see her a few minutes to-day, if he likes.” 

“ Yes’m. I told him. But he said it was you he 
wanted.” 

“ Very well, I’ll come down.” And Miss Polly 
arose from her chair a little wearily. 

In the sitting room she found waiting for her a 
round-eyed, flushed-faced boy, who began to speak 
at once. 

“ Ma’am, I s’pose it’s dreadful — what I’m doin’, 
an’ what I’m sayin’; but I can’t help it. It’s for 
Pollyanna, and I’d walk over hot coals for her, or 
face you, or — or anythin’ like that, any time. An’ 
I think you would, too, if you thought there was a 
chance for her ter walk again. An’ so that’s why 
I come ter tell ye that as long as it’s only pride 
301 


302 


PoIIyanna 


an’ et — et-somethin’ that’s keepin’ PoIIyanna from 
walkin’, why I knew you would ask Dr. Chilton 
here if you understood — ” 

“Wh-at?” interrupted Miss Polly, the look of 
stupefaction on her face changing to one of angry 
indignation. 

Jimmy sighed despairingly. 

“ There, I didn’t mean ter make ye mad. That’s 
why I begun by tellin’ ye about her walkin’ again. 
I thought you’d listen ter that.” 

“Jimmy, what are you talking about?” 

Jimmy sighed again. 

“ That’s what I’m tryin’ ter tell ye.” 

“ Well, then tell me. But begin at the beginning, 
and be sure I understand each thing as you go. 
Don’t plunge into the middle of it as you did before 
— and mix everything all up ! ” 

Jimmy wet his lips determinedly. 

“ Well, ter begin with, Dr. Chilton come ter see 
Mr. Pendleton, an’ they talked in the library. Do 
you understand that ? ” 

“ Yes, Jimmy.” Miss Polly’s voice was rather 
faint. 

“ Well, the window was open, and I was weedin’ 
the flower-bed under it; an’ I heard ’em talk.” 

“ Oh, Jimmy ! Listening ? ” 


Jimmy Takes the Helm 303 


“ ’Twa’n’t about me, an’ ’twa’n’t sneak listenin’,” 
bridled Jimmy. “ And I’m glad I listened. You 
will be when I tell ye. Why, it may make Polly- 
anna — walk ! ” 

“ Jimmy, what do you mean? ” Miss Polly was 
leaning forward eagerly. 

“ There, I told ye so/’ nodded Jimmy, con- 
tentedly. “ Well, Dr. Chilton knows some doctor 
somewhere that can cure Pollyanna, he thinks — 
make her walk, ye know; but he can’t tell sure till 
he sees her. And he wants ter see her somethin’ 
awful, but he told Mr. Pendleton that you wouldn’t 
let him.” 

Miss Polly’s face turned very red. 

“ But, Jimmy, I — I can’t — I couldn’t ! That is, 
I didn’t know ! ” Miss Polly was twisting her fin- 
gers together helplessly. 

“ Yes, an’ that’s what I come ter tell ye, so you 
would know,” asserted Jimmy, eagerly. “ They 
said that for some reason — I didn’t rightly catch 
what — you wouldn’t let Dr. Chilton come, an’ you 
told Dr. Warren so; an’ Dr. Chilton couldn’t come 
himself, without you asked him, on account of 
pride an’ professional et — et — well, et-somethin,’ 
anyway. An’ they was wishin’ somebody could 
make you understand, only they didn’t know who 


304 


Foilyanna 


could; an’ I was outside the winder, an’ I says 
ter myself right away, ‘ By Jinks, I’ll do it! ’ An’ 
I come — an’ have I made ye understand ? ” 

“ Yes; but, Jimmy, about that doctor,” implored 
Miss Polly, feverishly. “ Who was he? What did 
he do? Are they sure he could make Pollyanna 
walk ? ” 

“ I don’t know who he was. They didn’t say. 
Dr. Chilton knows him, an’ he’s just cured some- 
body just like her, Dr. Chilton thinks. Anyhow, 
they didn’t seem ter be doin’ no worryin’ about him. 
’Twas you they was worryin’ about, ’cause you 
wouldn’t let Dr. Chilton see her. An’ say — you 
will let him come, won’t you ? — now you under- 
stand ? ” 

Miss Polly turned her head from side to side. 
Her breath was coming in little uneven, rapid 
gasps. Jimmy, watching her with anxious eyes, 
thought she was going to cry. But she did not cry. 
After a minute she said brokenly: 

“ Yes — I’ll let — Dr. Chilton — see her. Now 
run home, Jimmy — quick! I’ve got to speak to 
Dr. Warren. He’s up-stairs now. I saw him drive 
in a few minutes ago.” 

A little later Dr. Warren was surprised to meet 
an agitated, flushed-faced Miss Polly in the hall. 


Jimmy Takes the Helm 


S05 


He was still more surprised to hear the lady say, a 
little breathlessly : 

“ Dr. Warren, you asked me once to allow Dr. 
Chilton to be called in consultation, and — I re- 
fused. Since then I have reconsidered. I very 
much desire that you should call in Dr. Chilton. 
Will you not ask him at once — please? Thank 
you.” 


CHAPTER XXXI 


A NEW UNCLE 

The next time Dr. Warren entered the chamber 
where Pollyanna lay watching the dancing shimmer 
of color on the ceiling, a tall, broad-shouldered man 
followed close behind him. 

“ Dr. Chilton ! — oh, Dr. Chilton, how glad I am 
to see you! ” cried Pollyanna. And at the joyous 
rapture of the voice, more than one pair of eyes in 
the room brimmed hot with sudden tears. “ But, 
of course, if Aunt Polly doesn’t want — ” 

“ It is all right, my dear; don’t worry,” soothed 
Miss Polly, agitatedly, hurrying forward. “ I have 
told Dr. Chilton that — that I want him to look you 
over — with Dr. Warren, this morning.” 

“ Oh, then you asked him to come,” murmured 
Pollyanna, contentedly. 

“ Yes, dear, I asked him. That is — ” But it 
was too late. The adoring happiness that had 
leaped to Dr. Chilton’s eyes was unmistakable, and 
Miss Polly had seen it. With very pink cheeks she 
turned and left the room hurriedly. 

800 


A New Uncle 


307 


Over in the window the nurse and Dr. Warren 
were talking earnestly. Dr. Chilton held out both 
his hands to Pollyanna. 

“ Little girl, I’m thinking that one of the very 
gladdest jobs you ever did has been done to-day,” 
he said in a voice shaken with emotion. 

At twilight a wonderfully tremulous, wonder- 
fully different Aunt Polly crept to Pollyanna’s bed- 
side. The nurse was at supper. They had the 
room to themselves. 

“ Pollyanna, dear, I’m going to tell you — the 
very first one of all. Some day I’m going to give 
Dr. Chilton to you for your — uncle. And it’s you 
that have done it all. Oh, Pollyanna, I’m so — 
happy ! And so — glad ! — darling ! ” 

Pollyanna began to clap her hands; but even as 
she brought her small palms together the first time, 
she stopped, and held them suspended. 

“ Aunt Polly, Aunt Polly, were you the woman’s 
hand and heart he wanted so long ago? You were 
— I know you were ! And that’s what he meant by 
saying I’d done the gladdest job of all — to-day. 
I’m so glad! Why, Aunt Polly, I don’t know but 
I’m so glad that I don’t mind — even my legs, 
now ! ” 

Aunt Polly swallowed a sob. 


308 


Pollyanna 


“ Perhaps, some day, dear — ” But Aunt Polly 
did not finish. Aunt Polly did not dare to tell, yet, 
the great hope that Dr. Chilton had put into her 
heart. But she did say this — and surely this was 
quite wonderful enough — to Pollyanna’s mind : 

“ Pollyanna, next week you’re going to take a 
journey. On a nice comfortable little bed you’re 
going to be carried in cars and carriages to a great 
doctor who has a big house many miles from here 
made on purpose for just such people as you are. 
He’s a dear friend of Dr. Chilton’s, and we’re going 
to see what he can do for you ! ” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


WHICH IS A LETTER FROM POLLYANNA 

“ Dear Aunt Polly and Uncle Tom : — Oh, I 
can — I can — I can walk ! I did to-day all the way 
from my bed to the window! It was six steps. 
My, how good it was to be on legs again ! 

“ All the doctors stood around and smiled, and all 
the nurses stood beside of them and cried. A lady 
in the next ward who walked last week first, peeked 
into the dooi, and another one who hopes she can 
walk next month, was invited in to the party, and 
she laid on my nurse’s bed and clapped her hands. 
Even Black Tilly who washes the floor, looked 
through the piazza window and called me 4 Honey, 
child ’ when she wasn’t crying too much to call me 
anything. 

“ I don’t see why they cried. I wanted to sing 
and shout and yell ! Oh — oh — oh ! Just think, 
I can walk — walk — walk! Now I don’t mind 
being here almost ten months, and I didn’t miss the 
wedding, anyhow. Wasn’t that just like you. Aunt 


310 


Pollyanna 


Polly, to come on here and get married right beside 
my bed, so I could see you. You always do think 
of the gladdest things! 

“ Pretty soon, they say, I shall go home. I wish 
I could walk all the way there. I do. I don’t think 
I shall ever want to ride anywhere any more. It 
will be so good just to walk. Oh, I’m so glad ! I’m 
glad for everything. Why, I’m glad now I lost my 
legs for a while, for you never, never know how 
perfectly lovely legs are till you haven’t got them — 
that go, I mean. I’m going to walk eight steps 
to-morrow. 

“ With heaps of love to everybody, 

“ Pollyanna.” 


THE END. 


Fcece»«cececa3C0»393C6C8»5C0a9M5*»3eceoj»»»3ceM»5C6»ca(c6O9»3J 


| FURTHER CHRONICLES 
I OF AVONLEA 


By L. M. Montgomery 




Author of “ Anne of Green Gables ,” “Anne of Avonlea / 
“ Chronicles of Avonlea” etc. 

Cloth, decorative, i2mo, illustrated, $1.75 

With an appreciation and introduction by 
Nathan Haskell Dole. 


Further stories of the people of Avonlea, the home of 
the beloved Anne Shirley of Green Gables, whom 
Mark Twain called the “dearest and most moving and 
delightful child since the immortal Alice.” Anne her- 
self “ once or twice flashes across the scene ” and her 
friends of Prince Edward Island are a most engaging 
group of people of whom the author writes with all 
the charm which has made her books unrivaled in 
their field. 

In his introduction to this volume, Nathan Haskell 
Dole, author among other numerous books of THE 
SPELL OF SWITZERLAND and editor of several 
scholarly editions of the Rubaiyat of Omar, compares 
Avonlea to Longfellow’s Grand Pre, and says, “There 
is something in these continued chronicles of Avonlea 
like the delicate art which has made Cranford a classic.” 

“ The author shows a wonderful knowledge of 
humanity, great insight and warmheartedness in the 
manner in which the stories are treated, and in the 
sympathetic way the gentle peculiarities of the charac- 
ters are brought out.” — Baltimore Sun. 






THE PEMBROKE MASON 
AFFAIR 

By George Barton 


Author of “The Ambassador's Trunk ” “The Strange 
Adventures of Bromley Barnes ” “ The Mystery 
of the Red Flame ” “The World’s Greatest 
Military Spies and Secret Service 
Agents,” etc. 

Cloth decorative, i2mo, illustrated, $1.75 

¥ 

We meet again that brilliant veteran of detectives, 
Bromley Barnes. In all of his adventures he has never 
solved a mystery as baffling as the murder of Pembroke 
Mason, a prominent lawyer, on the eve of a trial prom- 
ising startling disclosures in the business world. The 
manner in which the story is told carries the reader 
out of the usual run of detective stories into the realm 
of the unexpected. 

“ Not only can George Barton devise plots of extraor- 
dinary interest, but he can tell stories in a way that 
holds the reader captive. He who delves into Mr. 
Barton’s volumes will siiffer no interruptions, or permit 
no ordinary affairs to interfere with his entertainment. 
A Barton detective story is attention-absorbing, we 
might almost say a tyrannical master which will brook 
no rival.” — Philadelphia Record. 

“ Mr. Barton is making fame rapidly in the literary 
world. His romances are models of the narrators’ 
art.” — Catholic Standard, Philadelphia. 

“ Mr. Barton is a past master in creating and solving 
mysteries that are thrilling and filled with dramatic 
incidents.” — Pittsburgh Leader. 




POLLYANNA: THEM SS KFORD 8 

S Trade Mark U1 1 1UN 

THE GLAD BOOK {475th thousand) 

0 Trade Mark 

By Eleanor H. Porter 

Cloth , decorative , i2mo, $2.00 
Illustrated with 32 half-tone reproductions of scenes 
from the motion picture production, and a jacket 
with a portrait of Mary Pick ford in color. 

While preparing POLLYANNA for the screen, Miss 
Pickford said enthusiastically that it was the best 
picture she had ever made in her life, and the success 
of the picture on the screen has amply justified her 
statement. Mary Pickford’s interpretation of the be- 
loved little heroine as shown in the illustrations, adds 
immeasurably to the intrinsic charm of this popular 
story. 

“All unconsciously, it teaches a simple, wholesome 
lesson, which, if followed, would quickly transform 
this old world as a place to live in.” — Ex-Postmaster 
General John Wanamaker. 

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES 

THE MARY MILES M1NTER EDITION 

ByL. M. Montgomery {349th thousand ) 

Cloth, decorative, i2mo, $2.00 
Illustrated with 24 half-tone reproductions of scenes 
from the motion picture production, and a jacket 
in colors with Miss M inter’s portrait. 

Mary Miles Minter’s “ Anne ” on the screen is worthy 
of Mark Twain’s definition of her as the “dearest and 
most moving and delightful child since the immortal 
Alice.” 

“ It has been well worth while to watch the growing 
up of Anne. The once little girl of Green Gables 
should have a permanent fictional place of tender 
esteem.” — New York Herald. 





THE LEOPARD PRINCE j 

A Romance of Venice in the Fourteenth Century $ 

By Nathan Gallizier 


Author of “ The Sorceress of Rome” “ The Court of 
Lucifer” “ The Crimson Gondola” “ Under 
the Witches' Moon” etc. 

Illustrated in color by the Kinneys 

Cloth, decorative, 8 vo, $ 2.00 


A Romance of Venice, the Queen of the Adriatic, in 
the fourteenth century, of which the central figure is a 
noble Venetian, the Prince of Lepanto, Zuan Castello, 
known as the Leopard Prince from his coat of arms, a 
dramatic and dashing hero who combats the conspiracy 
headed by Lucio Strozzi to betray Venice to the Ban of 
Bosnia and Louis of Hungary. The “ eternal triangle ” 
is complete with the two heroines, Fulvia the young 
wife of the Leopard Prince and the Princess Yaga — 
the confidante and secret emissary of the Ban of Bosnia. 

It is interesting to note that Mr. Gallizier has chosen 
scenes for the story which played a prominent part in 
the World War and which have presented to the treaty- 
makers at Versailles, the same difficulties between the 
races on the Adriatic which Mr. Gallizier’s hero prince 
encountered 600 years ago. 

“ This new book adds greater weight to the claim 
that Mr. Gallizier is the greatest writer of historical 
novels in America today.” — Cincinnati Times Star. 

“The author displays many of the talents that made 
Sir Walter Scott famous.” — The Index. 








Selections from 
The Page Company’s 
List of Fiction 


WORKS OF 

ELEANOR H. PORTER 

Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 13mo, illustrated, $1.74 

POLLYANNA: The GLAD Book (475, ooo) 

Trade Mark Trade" 1 Mark 

Mr. Leigh Mitchell Hodges, The Optimist, in an editorial for 
the Philadelphia North American, says: “And when, after 
Pollyanna has gone away, you get her letter saying she is 
going to take ‘ eight steps ’ tomorrow — well, I don’t know j ust 
what you may do, but I know of one person who buried his 
face in his hands and shook with the gladdest sort of sadness 
and got down on his knees and thanked the Giver of all 
gladness for Pollyanna.” 

POLLYANNA GROWS UP: The Second GLAD Book 

Trade Mark (235,000) Trade Mark 

When the story of Pollyanna told in The Glad Book was 
ended, a great cry of regret for the vanishing “ Glad Girl ” 
went up all over the country — and other countries, too. Now 
Pollyanna appears again, just as sweec and joyous-hearted, 
more grown up and more lovable. 

“ Take away frowns ! Put down the worries ! Stop fidgeting 
and disagreeing and grumbling ! Cheer up, everybody ! Polly- 
anna has come back ! ” — Christian Herald. 


The GLAD Book Calendar 

Trade Mark 

THE POLLYANNA CALENDAR 

Trade Mark 

(This calendar is issued annually; the calendar for the new 
year being ready about Sept. 1st of the preceding year. 

Decorated and printed in colors. $1.50 

« There is a message of cheer on every page, and the calen- 
dar is beautifully illustrated.” — Kansas Citu Star. 


2 


THE PAGE COMPANY'S 


WORKS OF ELEANOR H. PORTER 0 Continued ) 

MISS BILLY (22nd printing) 

Cloth decorative, with a frontispiece in full color from a 
painting by G. Tyng 

“There is something altogether fascmatmg about Miss 
Billy,’ some inexplicable feminine characteristic that seems to 
demand the individual attention of the reader from the moment 
we open the book until we reluctantly turn the last page.” — 
Boston Transcript. 

MISS BILLY'S DECISION (15th printing) 

Cloth decorative, with a frontispiece in full color from a 
painting by Henry W. Moore. 

“The story is written in bright, clever style and has plenty 
of action and humor. Miss Billy is nice to know and so are 
her friends.” — New Haven Times Leader. 


MISS BILLY — MARRIED (12th printing) 

Cloth decorative, with a frontispiece in full color from a 
painting by W. Haskell Coffin. 

$1.74 

“Although Pollyanna is the only copyrighted glad girl, Miss 
Billy is just as glad as the younger figure and radiates just 
as much gladness. She disseminates joy so naturally that we 
wonder why all girls are not like her.” — Boston Transcript. 

SIX STAR RANCH (gth Printing) 

Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated by R. Farrington Elwell. 

$1.75 

“ ‘Six Star Ranch’ bears all the charm of the author's genius 
and is about a little girl down in Texas who practices the ‘Polly- 
anna Philosophy’ with irresistible success. The book is one of 
the kindliest things, if not the best, that the author of the Polly- 
anna books has done. It is a welcome addition to the fast- 
growing family of Glad Books.” — Howard Russell Bangs in the 
Boston Post. 


CROSS CURRENTS 

Cloth decorative, illustrated. $1.50 

“To one who enjoys a story of life as it is to-day, with its 
sorrows as well as its triumphs, this volume is sure to appeal.” 
— Book News Monthly. 

THE TURN OF THE TIDE 

Cloth decorative, illustrated. $1.50 

“A very beautiful book showing the influence that went to 
the developing of the life of a dear little girl into a true and 
good woman.” — Herald and Presbyter , Cincinnati , Ohio. 


/ 


LIST OF FICTION 


3 


WORKS OF 

L. M. MONTGOMERY 

THE FOUR ANNE BOOKS 

Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, $1.75 

ANNE OF GREEN GABLES (49th printing) 

“ In ‘ Anne of Green Gables ’ you will find the dearest and 
most moving and delightful child since the immoftal Alice.*’ — 
Mark Twain in a letter to Francis Wilson. 

ANNE OF AVONLEA (30th printing) 

“ A book to lift the spirit and send the pessimist into bank- 
ruptcy ! ” — Meredith Nicholson. 

CHRONICLES OF AVONLEA (nth printing) 

“ A story of decidedly unusual conception interest.” — 
Baltimore Sun. 

ANNE OF THE ISLAND (15th printing) 

“ It has been well worth while to watch the growing up of 
Anne, and the privilege of being on intimate terms with her 
throughout the process has been properly valued.” — New 
York Herald . 


Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, $1.75 

THE STORY GIRL (10th printing) 

“ A book that holds one's interest and keeps a kindly smile 
upon one’s lips and in one’s heart.” — Chicago Inter-Ocean . 


KILMENY OF THE ORCHARD (13th printing) 

“ A story bom in the heart of Arcadia and brimful of the 
sweet life of the primitive environment.” — Boston Herald. 

THE GOLDEN ROAD (6th printing) 

“ It is a simple, tender tale, touched to higher notes, now 
and then, by delicate hints of romance, tragedy and pathos.” — 
Chicago Record-Herald. 


4 


THE PAGE COMPANY’S 


NOVELS BY 

ISLA MAY MULLINS 

Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, $1.65 

THE BLOSSOM SHOP: A Story of the South 

“ Frankly and wholly romance is this book, and lovable — as 
is a fairy tale properly told.” — Chicago Inter-Ocean. 

ANNE OF THE BLOSSOM SHOP: Or, the Growing 
Up of Anne Carter 

“A charming portrayal of the attractive life of the South, 
refreshing as a breeze that blows through a pine forest.” — 
Albany Times-Union. 

ANNE’S WEDDING 

“ Presents a picture of home life that is most appealing in 
love and affection.” — Every Evening , Wilmington, Del. 

THE MT. BLOSSOM GIRLS 

“In the writing of the book the author is at her best as a 
story teller. It is a fitting climax to the series.” — Reader. 

TWEEDIE: The Story of a True Heart 

“ The story itself is full of charm and one enters right into 
the very life of Tweedie and feels as if he had indeed been 
lifted into an atmosphere of unselfishness, enthusiasm and 
buoyant optimism.” — Boston Ideas. 

NOVELS BY 

DAISY RHODES CAMPBELL 

THE FIDDLING GIRL 

Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.65 

“A thoroughly enjoyable tale, written in a delightful vein of 
sympathetic comprehension.” — Boston Herald. 

THE PROVING OF VIRGINIA 

Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.65 

“ A book which contributes so much of freshness, enthusiasm, 
and healthy life to offset the usual offerings of modern fiction, 
deserves all the praise which can be showered upon it.” — 
Kindergarten Review. 

THE VIOLIN LADY 

Cloth decorative, illustrated _ $1.65 

“ The author’s style remains simple and direct, as in her pre- 
ceding books.” — Boston Transcript. 


LIST OF FICTION 


5 


NOVELS BY 

ELIOT HARLOW ROBINSON 

SMILES, A ROSE OF THE CUMBERLANDS 

(20th thousand) 

Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75 

Smiles is a girl who has already made many friends and is 
destined to make many more. Her real name is Rose, but the 
rough folk of the Cumberlands preferred their own way of 
addressing her, for her smile was so bright and winning that no 
other name suited her so well. 

E. J. Anderson, former managing Editor of the Boston 
Advertiser and Record, is enthusiastic over the story and says: 

“ I have read ‘ Smiles ’ in one reading. After starting it, I 
could not put it down. Never in my life have I read a book 
like this that thrilled me half as much, and never have I seen 
a more masterful piece of writing.” 

MAN PROPOSES: Or, The Romance of John Alden 
Shaw 

Cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75 

“ This is first of all a charming romance, distinguished by a 
fine sentiment of loyalty to an ideal, by physical courage, in- 
domitable resolution to carry to success an altruistic under- 
taking, a splendid woman’s devotion, and a vein of spontaneous, 
sparkling humor that offsets its more serious phases.” — 
Springfield Republican. 

NOVELS BY 

MARY ELLEN CHASE 

THE GIRL FROM THE BIG HORN COUNTRY 

Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by E. Farrington Elwell $1.75 

“ ‘ The Girl from the Big Horn Country ’ tells how Virginia 
Hunter, a bright, breezy, frank-hearted ‘ girl of the Golden 
West ’ comes out of the Big Horn country of Wyoming to the 
old Bay State. Then things begin, when Virginia — who feels 
the joyous, exhilarating call of the Big Horn wilderness and 
the outdoor life — attempts to become acclimated and adopt 
good old New England ‘ways.’” — Critic. 

VIRGINIA, OF ELK CREEK VALLEY 

Cloth, 12mo, illustrated by E. Farrinsrton Elwell $1.75 

“ This story is fascinating, alive with constantly new and 
fresh interests and every reader will enjoy the novel for its 
freshness, its novelty and its inspiring glimpses of life with 
nature.” — The Editor. 


6 


THE PAGE COMPANY'S 


NOVELS BY 

MARGARET R. PIPER 

SYLVIA’S EXPERIMENT: The Cheerful Book 

Trade Mark 

Cloth decorative, with a frontispiece in full color $1.75 
“ An atmosphere of good spirits pervades the book ; the 
humor that now and then flashes across the page is entirely 
natural.” — Boston Post. 

SYLVIA OF THE HILL TOP: The Second Cheerful 

Book Trade Mark 

Cloth decorative, with a frontispiece in full color $1.75 
“ There is a world of human nature and neighborhood con- 
tentment and quaint quiet humor in Margaret R. Piper’s second 
book of good cheer.” — Philadelphia North American. 

“Sylvia proves practically that she is a messenger of joy to 
humanity.” — The Post Express, Rochester, N. Y . 

SYLVIA ARDEN DECIDES: The Third Cheerful 

BOOlj Trade Mark 

Cloth decorative, with a frontispiece in full color $1.75 
“ Its ease of style, its rapidity, its interest from page to page, 
are admirable; and it shows that inimitable power — the story- 
teller’s gift of verisimilitude. Its sureness and clearness are 
excellent, and its portraiture clear and pleasing.” — The Reader. 

FICTION FOR YOUNGER READERS BY 

MARGARET R. PIPER 

THE HOUSE ON THE HILL 

By Margaret R. Piper. 

Cloth decorative, illustrated $1.65 

“ ‘ The House on the Hill ’ presents higher ideals of service 
and life for boys and girls, and the charming characters 
worked their way out of problems which face all young people 
of buoyant spirits and ambition.” — Buffalo News. 

“ The story is a delightful one, with all kinds of interesting 
adventures and characters.” — Sunday Leader. 

THE PRINCESS AND THE CLAN 

Bv Margaret R. Piper. 

Cloth decorative, illustrated by John Goss $1.65 

“ This is a delightful story for young and old, wholesome 
and uplifting. The chief charm of the story lies in its sim- 
plicity,” — Philadelphia North American, 


LIST OF FICTION 




DETECTIVE STORIES BY 

GEORGE BARTON 

Each, one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, $1.75 

THE MYSTERY OF THE RED FLAME 

“ An admirable story — an engaging story of love, mystery 
and adventure.” — The Philadelphia Inquirer. 

THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF BROMLEY 
BARNES 

“ It would be difficult to find a collection of more interesting 
tales of mystery so well told. The author is crisp, incisive 
and inspiring. The book is the best of its kind in recent years 
and adds to the author’s already high reputation.” — New 
York Tribune. 

THE AMBASSADOR’S TRUNK 

“ Mr. Barton is in the front rank of the writers of mystery 
stories, and this is one of his best” — Pittsburgh Chronicle 
Telegraph. 

“ The book is of the good red-blood type, with few dull lines 
and stirring action and episodes in almost every page.” — 
Montreal Herald. 


BUSINESS NOVELS BY 

HAROLD WHITEHEAD 

Professor of Sales Relations, The College of Business 
Administration, Boston University 

Each one volume, cloth, 12mo, illustrated, $1.65 

DAWSON BLACK, RETAIL MERCHANT 

“ Contains much that it would profit a young merchant to 
know and its fictional interest makes a strong appeal.” — New 
York Tribune. 

THE BUSINESS CAREER OF PETER FLINT 

“ Peter Flint is certainly a marvel. . . . His career reveals 
a most remarkable metamorphosis from incapacity, stubborn- 
ness, and what seemed a chronic inclination to fall down on 
every job which he undertook, to an amazing exposition of 
business capacity and skill.” — Boston Transcript. 


ME PAGE COMPANY'S 


THE FAMOUS SEA STORIES OF 

HERMAN MELVILLE 

MOBY DICK; Or, The White Whale 

TYPEE. A Real Romance of the South Sea 

0M00. A Narrative of Adventures in the South 
Seas; a sequel to TYPEE 

WHITE JACKET; Or, The World on a Man-of-War 

Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated $1.75 

The recent centenary of Herman Melville created renewed 
interest in his famous sea stories. 

“ Melville wove human element and natural setting into re- 
citals which aroused the enthusiasm of critics and sent a thrill 
of delight through the reading public when first published, and 
which both for form and matter have ever since held rank as 
classics in the literature of travel.” — Boston Herald. 

DETECTIVE STORIES BY 

ARTHUR MORRISON 

Each one volume, cloth decorative, 12mo, illustrated, $1.75 

THE GREEN DIAMOND 

“ A clever, ingenious story, with j ust the right combination 
of detective skill and mystery and with a touch of Oriental 
mysticism.” — Kansas City Star. *x 

THE RED TRIANGLE 

“ The reader who has a grain of imagination may be defied 
to lay this book down, once he has begun it, until the last word 
has been reached.” — Boston Journal. 

“ It is a splendid story of the kind that cannot fail to in- 
terest.” — Detroit Journal. 

THE CHRONICLES OF MARTIN HEWITT 

“ The story is told in a forceful, straightforward style, which 
gives it impressive realism.” — Boston Herald. 

“ The story is well-written, unique, quite out of the usual 
order, and a vein of mystery running through it that is most 
captivating.” — Christian Intelligencer, 


H 


W 


X92 


LIST OF FICTION 


9 


HISTORICAL ROMANCES OF 

NATHAN GALLIZIER 

UNDER THE WITCHES’ MOON 

Cloth decorative, large 12mo, illustrated in color by The 
Kinneys $2.00 

“A highly colored romance of mediaeval Italy with a most 
interesting background.” — New York World. 

THE CRIMSON GONDOLA 

Cloth decorative, large 12mo, illustrated in color from paint- 
ings by Edmund H. Garrett „ $2.00 

“ Mr. Gallizier is unusually strong in the use of description, 
and conveys vividly the gorgeous decadence and luxury of the 
sybaritic city.” — Los Angeles Sunday Times. 

THE HILL OF VENUS 

Cloth decorative, large 12mo, illustrated in color from paint- 
ings by Edmund H. Garrett $2.00 

This is a vivid and powerful romance of the thirteenth cen- 
tury in the times of the great Ghibelline wars. 

“ It is vibrant with action and overflowing with human emo- 
tions throughout.” — Wilmington Every Evening. 

THE COURT OF LUCIFER 

Cloth decorative, large 12mo, illustrated in color from paint- 
ings by The Kinneys _ $2.00 

“ The book is breathless reading, as much for the adventures, 
the pageants, the midnight excursions of the minor characters, 
as for the love story of the prince and Donna Lucrezia.” — 
Boston Transcript. 

THE SORCERESS OF ROME 

Cloth decorative, large 12mo, illustrated in color from paint- 
ings by The Kinneys . $2.00 

“ A splendid bit of old Roman mosaic, or a gorgeous piece of 
tapestry. Otto is a striking and pathetic figure. Description 
of the city, the gorgeous ceremonials of the court and the revels 
are a series of wonderful pictures.” — Cincinnati Enquirer. 

CASTEL DEL MONTE 

Cloth decorative, large 12mo, illustrated by H. C. Edwards. 

$2.00 

“There is color; there is sumptuous word-painting in these 
pages; the action is terrific at times; vividness and life are in 
every part; and brilliant descriptions entertain the reader and 
a singular fascination to the tale.” — Grand Rapids Herald . 


10 


THE PAGE COMP ANTS 


WORKS OF 

GABRIELE D’ANNUNZIO 

Signor d’Annunzio is known throughout the world as a poet 
and a dramatist, but above all as a novelist, for it is in his novels 
that he is at his best. In poetic thought and graceful expression 
he has few equals among the writers of the day. 

He is engaged on a most ambitious work — nothing less than 
the writing of nine novels which cover the whole field of human 
sentiment. This work he has divided into three trilogies, and 
five of the nine books have been published. It is to be regretted 
that other labors have interrupted the completion of the series. 

“ This book is realistic. Some say that it is brutally so. 
But the realism is that of Flaubert, and not of Zola. There 
is no plain speaking for the sake of plain speaking. Every 
detail is justified in the fact that it illuminates either the motives 
or the actions of the man and woman who here stand revealed. 
It is deadly true. The author holds the mirror up to nature, 
and the reader, as he sees his own experiences duplicated in 
passage after passage, has something of the same sensation as 
all of us know on the first reading of George Meredith’s ‘ Ego- 
ist.’ Reading these pages is like being out in the country on 
a dark night in a storm. Suddenly a flash of lightning comes 
and every detail of your surroundings is revealed.” - — Review 
of “ The Triumph of Death ” in the New York Evening Sun. 

The volumes published are as follows. Each 1 vol., library 
12mo, cloth $1.75 

THE ROMANCES OF THE ROSE 

THE CHILD OF PLEASURE (II Piaceke). 

THE INTRUDER (L’Innocente). 

THE TRIUMPH OF DEATH (II Tkionto della 
Morte). 

THE ROMANCES OF THE LILY 

THE MAIDENS OF THE ROCKS (Le Vergini 

delle Rocce). 

THE ROMANCES OF THE POMEGRANATE 

THE FLAME OF LIFE (II Fuoco). 




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